


Tales They Told

by fated13th



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Living on the Ground, Oral History, Post-Season/Series 02, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7786900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated13th/pseuds/fated13th
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time the story of Mount Weather was told, it was as soon as the survivors made it back to camp. However, that was not the last time it was shared. And throughout the years as Bellamy looked after the remaining members of the 100, additional stories were spread of the girl he knew as Clarke, now better known to most as the Wanheda. These are among the tales they told.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tales They Told

**Author's Note:**

> This was started way back before season three was released. I was really interested in how the stories of Clarke, this so-called Wanheda, would spread, and all the tales that would be born for this legendary figure due to the oral tradition of the grounders and wanted to explore that in a nanowrimo which then... grew. I did finish writing before the new season came out but it's taken me this long to fix it up into such a manner for the general public to consume. You should see all your favorite characters, albeit for brief moments, as it really is more of a character study. Enjoy!

The first time the story of Mount Weather was told, it was as soon as the survivors made it back to camp. Reports had to be made. People had to be informed. The soldiers no longer had need to fear the Mountains, but what of the Grounders, who had abandoned them, breaking the treaty they had fought so hard for?

Bellamy was the one who went through with command what happened under ground. He wouldn’t put Monty through the unbearable strain of having to deal with the adults who doubted every other word they said, still believing them to be children. And Clarke was gone (not that he blamed her). He told the story plainly, the facts of the matter, and took the main responsibility for the genocide. The leaders of the Arc nodded and almost immediately went to work on trying to figure out what to do about the Grounders now, shunting Bellamy out of the conversation. He rolled his eyes and went to check on his people.

He found the remaining forty-seven (out of a hundred. They had lost so many and it had only been a couple of months. How many would be left in a year?) taking over what made up the medical bay. They covered every available surface, including much of the floor, leaving a small path for doctors and other medical attendants to walk. When their eyes lit on him, he could see the fire of life rekindle within them. A few even smiled. He patted a few of the younger ones (god, what had they done on the Arc to get sent here?) on the head as he made his way over to where  Octavia was crouched with Jasper, both looking mutinous. When his sister saw him, her stiff posture relaxed slightly. Having her near again felt like a breath of fresh Earthen air, relief, even with her Trigedakru attire. Jasper merely scowled up at him.

“What’s the status, O?” he asked them. 

“Could ask you the same,” Octavia replied with a raised eyebrow. “The Arc seems to all have their panties in a twist. What are they freaking out about now?”

“Still worried about the Grounders. And apparently Jaha left with a good number of people and guns to go search for the ‘City of Light’ or whatever desert paradise he thinks he’ll find out there. How long are you guys in here for?”

“Not long, for most of us,” Octavia said. “They don’t have enough resources or helping hands, especially with Abby down for the count, so those of us who can walk are out and on our own as soon as they do a ‘check’ on us. Clarke could really be useful here, where is she?” The girl practically spat the name. Bellamy’s eyes narrowed, slightly confused by the apparent antagonism.

“She’s gone,” he replied simply.

“Gone? What do you mean  _ gone _ ?” Jasper asked.

Bellamy took a moment to think of how to put it. “Camp Jaha isn’t the place for her right now. She needed to go away for a bit.”

Jasper snorted. “After everything she’s done, she’s just going to leave us?”

“We’re better off without her,” Octavia muttered.

“And what do you mean by that?” Bellamy demanded. He knew the likelihood of as many of them surviving the ground as they had if she hadn’t been with them throughout it all was minimal. 

“Are you kidding? She just killed a whole  _ mountain  _ of people! Not everyone there needed to die! There were innocents, children!” Maia. Bellamy knew Jasper was heartbroken over the death of the girl from under the mountain. He himself mourned the girl (and the little boy whose father he had killed, and all the others who had nothing to do with the torture of his friends who got caught up in the catastrophe); he had been looking forward to somehow seeing her experience life outside on the ground and the freedom that came with it.

“It was either them or us. I helped make that decision and I’d make it again. I’d choose my people any day,” Bellamy said.

“She let other people who didn’t need to die too. Not the Mountain Men. But the Grounders.” Octavia glanced around, as if to check who was listening. “Ton-DC was bombed. She knew. She  _ knew  _ and she didn’t tell anyone. She could have evacuated the village but she didn’t. She let the whole village burn. She  _ watched  _ them burn. I found her in the woods, afterwards. Clarke’s changed, Bellamy. She’s not your Princess anymore.”

“She had her reasons.” Bellamy didn’t know what they were, but he was sure she had them. They were fighting a war and he knew that meant playing nasty at times. “And we’ve all changed here on the ground.” He nodded towards her face caked with war paint. “That’s a real nice look you’ve got now, O.”

Octavia blushed, scowling. “Shut up.”

One of the Arc medical assistants stopped by them. “Mr. Blake, if you’d like to step this way, one of the doctors will see you now.”

He shot Octavia and Jasper a look with raised eyebrows.  _ Mr. Blake _ indeed. “I’ll see you during dinner, okay?” Octavia gave him a nod and he followed the man out.

 

That night he couldn’t find Octavia or Jasper around any of the campfires when he was let free from the Council’s debates (they didn’t seem to want to listen to him while he was there but neither did they want his absence, so he was forced to sit there in stewing frustration). He did find Miller sitting with his father and surrounded by other children from the Arc. When Miller saw him wandering, he gestured him on over. “Come join us! I was just telling them about the Mountain.” Bellamy wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear this story again, but welcomed the company so he took a seat that a younger one had vacated.

Miller picked back up his tale:

> She was already restless with the confinement. She sensed something was off. After everything that we had been through, she knew that this was too good to be true! Climate controlled air systems, showers, and clean clothes were _amazing_. I swear I had never seen some of us _not_ caked in dirt and sweat before! And the food. Oh stars, the food. You think meat is good? The stuff they had! Worlds away from the protein packs and gemmoed foods we had in space. But Clarke knew that when life backed off to give us a break, it was just to get a good aim to punch us in the gut.
> 
> And, man, did she have balls. Our Princess was completely unafraid to confront the President, to make demands. He tried to convince her that everything was just peachy. When that didn’t work, he tried the suggestion of threats. And do you know what she did then? She tried to make a break for it. Heard from Jasper that she almost caused a breach that would have wiped all of them out then and there! Would have maybe saved us all some time and suffering if she had, but it’s not like she wanted to kill everyone, she just wanted to get us all to safety. 
> 
> On her way out, that first time, she ran into some of the Mountain Men coming back in from an expedition outside in their protective suits. One of them had been killed. Shot with a gun, Clarke said. And she knows her wounds, having to patch us all up time and again, now doesn’t she? But she wasn’t good at keeping her suspicions to herself so when she demanded to see the body they let her do so, but only after dinner, so they had had time to doctor it up to make it look like it was an arrow.
> 
> You’ve gotta understand what this meant, that he was shot with a gun. That means they had come up against you guys. Grounders don’t use guns. Thank goodness for that too, because that’s really our only advantage against them. So, boom, instantly paints them as the bad guys because they said that none of you had made it, that they hadn’t come across any of you and that if they had, they’d bring you in to join us. Making them liars as well as torturers. And then making it look like it had been an arrow wound the entire time? Trying to make it seem like she had imagined things. Paint her as mentally unsound and it destroys her credibility. How can she protect us when she doesn’t even know what’s real? And it worked a bit. Made Jasper think she was going crazy. He told her to stop poking her nose into things or else we’d all get kicked out.
> 
> Now, don’t go blaming Jasper. He was scared. We had just been plucked out of a life-and-death struggle and inside the Mountain seemed heavenly, like I said earlier. We were back in civilization. The Mountain was a lot like the Arc. Enclosed. Orderly. Clean. The air of the dying. Although, to be fair, the air was still fresher than what we got on the Arc. Remember how stale it was? Not something I realized until breathing in good fresh air here on the ground. But the point is, the Mountain was familiar. Familiar should be safe. Us of the hundred should’ve known better though. Not like the Arc was all that safe for us, after all, am I right?
> 
> Anyways. They did such a good job of making Clarke seem crazy that when she did up and disappear for good, they said that she was disturbed and was in the Mountain equivalent of the psych ward for her own good. And it was  _ believable _ . We think Johnny was the last to see her there, and he says she was heading to the med ward, clutching her bleeding arm. The one that had been stitched up. They said that she was hurting herself. What I figure happened is that she  _ did _ rip up her arm back up. For some sort of plan. I don’t know. But Clarke doesn’t just get hurt without unloading hell. Isn’t that right, Bellamy? 

Bellamy had been caught up in the story and simply nodded. Clarke had told him most of what had happened to her already, but it was interesting to hear it from Miller’s point of view. The regard his friend held of her. Clarke was good at inspiring awe and loyalty. “Sounds like her,” he muttered before Miller launched back into what he, Monty, Jasper, and Harper had got into after Clarke had disappeared. Although still listening, his mind was still half-tuned into the thought of the Princess, wondering where she was now and what she was doing. The air was starting to get cold at night. Winter was coming.

  
  


It was a few weeks after the snow first started to fall (and wasn’t that a surprise, more shocking than rain, white flakes drifting from the sky. They learned quickly that it had a bite and scrambled to get more clothing layers put together and feeding the fires was a watch all on its own). Things had been relatively peaceful, which was needed as they were still trying to figure out how to survive on the ground, let alone settle it. The Sky People finally built houses on the ground, ramshackle hovels that could truthfully barely be called houses, but they needed more shelter, the remains of the Arc just weren’t cutting it.

Bellamy found himself presiding over the few longhouses that sheltered most of the remaining Forty-Seven. Some of the kids chose to rejoin their family that had come down with the rest of Camp Jaha but there weren’t too many of those. Too many people didn’t make it down from the Arc. And while there was the option of housing with some of the other orphans (stars, Bellamy hated that term), everyone knew them as the Forty-Seven. They may have received official pardons, but many still viewed them as criminals. And they had survived on Earth for weeks before “civilization” joined them. Bellamy had heard more than one person refer to them as savages, wild, feral. He didn’t care. They were dangerous. They were survivors. But it was easier to stay among their own than it was to try to deal with the stuck-up elitists that made up much of Camp Jaha. 

Bellamy remained the Forty-Seven’s unspoken leader and he kept Miller and Octavia close by his side. Miller often acted as the voice of reason and Octavia, out of all of the Forty-Seven, had become the intimidation factor. She kept her face freshly marked with war paint and she’d wander around camp with her blade strapped to her back. The Chancellor had tried to take it away, claiming that anyone not a guard holding a weapon was a felony, but between Octavia’s glaring, Raven going on strike from the tech work they constantly kept her busy with, and Miller persuasively arguing that it wasn’t a weapon, it was a tool to help butcher the deer they brought in for dinner and there would be trouble if this fact was contested, they decided to look a blind eye. ( _ As long as no trouble is caused _ , Kane sternly warned.) Together the three of them represented their group to the rest of the Camp, and the Council considered Bellamy an unofficial member, which he found bizarre. (And slightly laughable. Of course he couldn’t be an official member of the Council. The Forty-Seven would have to be deemed important enough for Representation and a group of criminal kids would never gain that elite status.)

He was in the midst of directing repair to the far longhouse whose roof had collapsed after a tree limb had fallen on it when he heard Octavia calling him. He looked up sharply. She had been off on the day’s hunting party, which hadn’t left all that long ago. They shouldn’t be back for another few hours. Unless they had stumbled upon a herd. Or trouble. “Up here, O!” he called out before quickly finishing up his work, which admittedly was mainly delegation. He climbed down the crude ladder they had rigged up (the Arc hadn’t wanted to lend them one, as if they would somehow ruin the aluminum rungs). “What is it? Are you okay?”

“We found him!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “We found him! Or, well, he found us.”

“Take a breath, O, and wait to talk until you can do so sensibly.” He raised an eyebrow, amused. He took it from her demeanor that this was good news. The scowl that seemed all too familiar on her face recently was gone. She was almost smiling.

She rolled her eyes but took a moment to calm down. “Lincoln,” she said. “We came upon Lincoln in the forest. He’s a bit battered and bruised, Abby’s seeing to him since he’s a familiar face due to the Mountain. But he’ll be fine. He’s here! We should find a place for him in one of our cabins. The Arc won’t want a Grounder among them.” She sniffed indignantly.

Bellamy refrained from pointing out that many of the Forty-Seven wouldn’t like the idea any better. But she was right, he’d probably fall under their jurisdiction if he stuck around. (Bellamy didn’t like the thought of what the Arc would do to the Grounder if he tried to stay in the main camp.) “There should be space in Rock for him to crash,” he replied instead, referring to the third male cabin they had built, marked by the large rock that Jones and a few of the others rolled out in front of the building and was now used as a popular space for lounging in the sun, when time allowed. He had had to break up a couple fights over it. It was easier to find people things to do. Things always needed doing. “When’s he due out of medbay?”

Octavia shrugged. “Soon, I think. You should be there. They’ll probably want him to report on the other Grounders. He won’t talk. Not to them. Probably won’t say a lot to you either.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. As long as the Grounders aren’t planning on attacking us any time soon, I’m fine if he keeps his mouth shut,” Bellamy said, rolling his shoulders to get out kinks from working on the roof. “I’ll go save him from the barbaric Arc Council. Go get Miller for me and I’ll meet you at the medbay.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, I’m not your messenger girl,” Octavia grumbled before going off in search of Miller.

Bellamy rolled his eyes affectionately and made his way to the medical facilities. It wasn’t difficult to locate Lincoln once inside as the other Arcers made sure to leave plenty of space between them and the Grounder. Octavia was underestimating his condition, Lincoln looked pretty beat up. Bellamy couldn’t help but hiss; he was unsure if there was an inch of him that  _ wasn’t  _ covered in bruises. Lincoln looked up at the noise. The stoic man didn’t smile but minutely relaxed and gave him a nod. (And how circumstances had changed. Bellamy remembered how he had strung up Lincoln and tortured him. So many things had changed.) “What happened to you?” Lincoln merely raised an eyebrow. Octavia was right, he wasn’t going to speak, especially not around all these civilians. Bellamy nodded, to show that he understood. “Octavia and Miller are on their way. As soon as they agree to let you go, we’ll help you out.”

“Oh, he’s not going anywhere for a while.” Councilor Griffin strode over, clipboard in hand. “He’s in pretty bad shape. And once he’s able to talk, we need him to tell us what happened to him. See if he has word from any of the others.” Clarke, is what she meant. She wanted to know if he had seen Clarke. Bellamy knew the feeling. But that wasn’t going to get the Grounder talking.

“These are nothing but surface wounds. As soon as you clean him up, let me take him off your hands. There’s no need to keep him around these skittish people.” He gestured towards the sick and injured civilians, as well as the medical attendees. “We’ll make sure he’s kept safe and comes to no harm.”

“Not until he reports to the Council,” Councilor Griffin said firmly.

“None of the Council knows Trigedasleng,” Bellamy reasoned. “Octavia and I will talk with him and report to the Council anything we learn.”

He could see the Councilor giving in. “I’ll need to get authorization from the Council,” she accepted, “but as long as Kane sits in with you, that may be acceptable.”

Bellamy nodded. That’s probably as good as he was going to get for now. Miller may be able to talk them into more leniency once he got down here. “So, when do you think he’ll be ready to leave the medbay?”

“Like I said, it’ll be a while,” Griffin said, going back to making notes on her clipboard. “He’s lost a lot of blood and there’s still some stitches that need to be done.”

He shot Lincoln an apologetic glance. “I’ll just wait then. I’ve got nothing better to do.” It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Griffin and the Council but… he didn’t trust them. “Keep my buddy company here.” He shot the Councilor a charming grin. 

“Just stay out of the way. And if your sister comes in, for the last time, remind her to leave her dinner knife outside.” She rolled her eyes and went on her way.

Bellamy stole a chair from the rim of the room and dragged it over to Lincoln’s side. “Shouldn’t be too long.” Griffin had confirmed that he was mainly just suffering surface wounds and there wasn’t much more that they could do other than clean and stitch him up before sending him on his way. “I can only imagine you like it in here even less than I do.” He made himself comfortable in the chair and contented himself with giving Looks at everyone who dared glance over at them. They sat silently like that for maybe a quarter of an hour, before Octavia loudly came in, dragging Miller behind her. 

“Can we leave yet?” she asked Bellamy, shooting glares at all the medics inside.

Bellamy shot Miller a look, who nodded and went over to talk with Councilor Griffin. The two walked out, presumably to discuss terms of Lincoln’s release. “Not yet,” Bellamy told his sister. “He still needs to be patched up and interrogated. As civilized people do to their guests.” He leaned back in his chair as her glower intensified and her hand went to stroke her blade. 

O moved over to stand beside Lincoln and looked him over. “Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim,” she muttered to him, her glower softening. 

“Otaim,” Lincoln agreed. Bellamy was willing to bet that that was the first time he had opened his mouth since making contact with the people of the Arc. 

“Well, if you’re here to keep an eye on him, I think I’ll go back to work. Have Miller come get me once you get out of here,” Bellamy said to the two lovers. (He didn’t want to think about it. He tried very hard not to think of it. But with the way those two looked at each other, he was pretty certain he knew went on between them, although he wished very hard he didn’t. His baby sister was barely old enough to go to a dance, let alone have a… a  _ boyfriend _ . He shuddered at the thought.) “Those roofs won’t patch themselves.”

 

Evening came before Miller came to get him. Bellamy had seen the completion of the fixes to L Cabin, broken up two fights, checked on Raven, and managed to see the hunting party safely back. It had been a successful, albeit long, day. He was glad he could get this one last thing over and done with. Maybe he’d even get a chance to go to the river tomorrow to wash, he mused as he walked with Miller and two other delinquents to the room set aside for the questioning of Lincoln. He was unsurprised to see Kane already there. Lincoln sat upright on an uncomfortable stool in the middle of the room with Octavia lurking in the shadows of the room, pacing.

“Calm down, O,” Bellamy waved her down. “You’ll wear a hole in the floor.” He nodded to Harper and Monroe, who went to stand outside the door. They weren’t guards, necessarily, as they didn’t have any visible weapons. But they were a sign that Bellamy would brook no funny business when it came to Lincoln, whether he was the aggressor or the victim. He didn’t make shows of power often, because it was safer for them all to play nonthreatening, but when he went down that route he meant it.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s get started,” Kane said. “If we may?”

Bellamy nodded. “What questions do you have for him? Octavia here will translate, since I know you are not completely fluent in their language.”

“What has he and his people been up to since we last saw them,” Kane replied, directing the question to Octavia, who glanced at Bellamy before repeating the question in Trigedasleng.

Lincoln started speaking and Octavia spoke for him. Bellamy wondered briefly if they practiced quietly while in the medbay because he knew that while Octavia was familiar with the language, she was not completely fluent. “After our people were released from the mountain, we went to Polis to recuperate. The Commander wanted the Trikru to relocate out of the Mountain’s shadow while we had the chance and since Ton-DC is destroyed, we stayed there for the time being.”

“So there are no more Grounders nearby?” Kane interrupted.

Lincoln snapped out a reply, annoyed at the forced break in his story. “Not currently,” Octavia replied.

“Are they expected to return?”

A repeated growl. “Not currently.”

“What does that mean?” Kane asked.

“It means you should let him finish his story,” Octavia said with a raised eyebrow. After a moment of silence from Kane, Lincoln continued speaking. 

“All of the tribes were at Polis to discuss what to do next about the Mountain. It was decided to leave the problem to the Sky People, as your leader Clarke seemed competent enough. And if not, we would be prepared to meet the Mountain Men under our sun on our ground.

“It did not take long for word to reach us that the Mountain had fallen, that Clarke was as powerful as the Commander had thought. She insisted on keeping Trikru in the city in case Clarke would seek revenge for leaving her to deal with the Mountain on her own. We wanted to go home but saw merit in her wisdom. We were still healing. It would not be good to go home and make war with the Sky People before we were whole.”

“So they plan on coming back to fight?” Kane asked. This time he was met with stony glares and silence. “Fine, sorry. Please, continue.”

“Weeks passed before Clarke of the Sky People came to Polis.” Bellamy started and Octavia glanced at him questioningly without breaking stride. “She marched up to the doors and demanded that the Commander meet her. And meet her she did. She swept out of the capitol in her finest gear and a smile on her face and greeted Clarke as Wanheda, welcoming her to her home. Clarke accepted and joined her. There was feasting and celebrating as the two’s broken alliance was mended. There was no forgiveness but there was acceptance and the desire to learn more from each other. Of each other. They kept the capitol awake for three nights straight. 

“And demands were made. Clarke the Wanheda demanded that we leave the Sky People alone or else she’d visit her wrath upon the Children of the Earth as she had upon the Mountain Men. The Commander agreed; all we wanted is peace and blood has had blood. Clarke also demanded my freedom as I had been imprisoned as a traitor for helping her people, the Sky People. Since our clans were again allies and Clarke had called for me specifically, I was let go and exiled from my crew in return for my crimes. Clarke sent me to join her crew here at Camp Jaha and to make sure that peace remains between our peoples. There is to be no more ill will between us.”

When it was clear that Lincoln had finished talking, Kane mused, “So, an exchange of hostages? We get you and they’ll keep Clarke to ensure a cease of hostilities?”

“Clarke is free to leave the capitol as she so desires. You will find it equally difficult to keep me here against my will,” Lincoln said, translated by Octavia, who delivered it with a mirrored growl.

“I need to report these findings to the Council,” Kane said, making his way to the door. “Bellamy, make sure he stays within camp’s grounds. We may have more questions for him later.”

“Sir.” Bellamy had no intention of preventing Lincoln from doing anything he wanted, within reason. After Kane had gone, he turned to the Grounder. “Okay, now let’s get you all settled in. You still probably need to rest a couple days. I’ve got you in Rock House.” He paused for a moment, unable to help himself from asking, “You saw Clarke? How is she?”

Lincoln got to his feet and put a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder. “Clarke is wandering but she knows where her roots are. She is good. Do not worry for her. Not much can stand against the will of the Wanheda.” Octavia led Lincoln out, leaving Bellamy standing there alone for a moment before he too followed them out of the room, with Harper and Monroe falling in behind.

  
  


Winter had come. Camp Jaha had been covered in snow twice now for the space of several days. Everyone was relieved when it had melted and hoped that it wouldn’t come again. Fires were kept going constantly for warmth, which meant that there was a great need for wood. The 47 were mainly kept on lumber-duty for this reason. The long days were exhausting and kept them out of trouble, although many of them also felt ill-used. When Bellamy went to the Council about the seeds of unrest, they agreed to up their rations and give them more days off in return for their work. They were also taken off of hunting duty (Bellamy knew this was more to try to keep them away from weapons than to give them a break, but he didn’t share his thoughts with the others). Lincoln would disappear for weeks and then suddenly reappear in the cabins of the delinquents. Bellamy pretended not to notice that sometimes Octavia would disappear with him and return, sometimes on her own, looking more alive than ever.

As they spent most of their days out in the woods and then evenings secluded in their section of the camp, it took time for news of the recent arrivals to filter down. Bellamy thought there were faces in the camp he didn’t recognize when he walked through it on his way to the dining hall but had just dismissed it. He didn’t know everyone, after all, and where would new people have come from? The Mountain Men were all dead and Grounders were easily distinguishable from the members of the Arc.

The following weekend, most of the 47 were relaxing in the main mess hall of the camp, where it was warm due to the large fires roaring within and due to the mass of people inside. The winter had eased some boundaries between the civilians and the delinquents so that, if they weren’t exactly welcomed, their extra body heat was appreciated. Now interacting with the rest of the camp, it didn’t take long for them to realize that there were indeed new faces among them and word spread quickly through the rest of the 47.

“So, I haven’t seen you around here before,” Bellamy heard Asher say to an older girl, one of the new faces. (Bellamy sighed internally. Asher could steal the spoon from your hand without you noticing but he could be as unsubtle as an ax to the face.)

“I could say the same,” the girl replied, holding out a hand. “I’m Mariah, from Tesla Station. We came in a couple days ago.”

Asher took her hand and kissed it, giving her a dashing grin. “Asher. Sky Box. First ones here.”

Still not subtle, Bellamy thought, but perhaps charming. He warmed his hands on a nearby fire and continued to listen in with half an ear while observing the rest of the hall. There were about fifteen people he was certain he didn’t recognize, ranging from a couple children to a few gray-haired adults. Jehanna George was beaming as she was being clutched by a sobbing woman with a man talking to her. Relatives, Bellamy figured, and continued searching the crowd. Monty was talking excitedly to one of the gray-haired old men. Not family. The newcomers seemed more willing to mingle with the 47 than the original group of Arcers. A small group of the delinquents were gathering around Asher and Mariah, who was telling about how the people on the Tesla Station of the Arc survived the landing.

“And then a few weeks after we stopped being attacked this woman came out of the forest. Decked out in furs, we would’ve shot at her but we were almost out of ammo and she seemed to be alone. She called out to us in peace  _ and we understood her _ . She spoke our language! The guards let her pass and she went to speak with Councilor Karakov. She claimed to be of the Hundred originally sent down and she’d lead us here.” There was murmuring among her audience. “And, well, what did we have to lose? The snows had started and we were dying anyways. We held a vote and agreed to follow her so she led us out of the caves. 

“Stars above, what a woman! It was like her feet never touched the ground, she never sunk into the snows like the rest of us. And sometimes she’d just disappear and we’d set up camp to wait for her to come back. And when she did come back, it was usually carrying a whole big animal with her! We’d spend the rest of the day preparing the meat and cooking it. How she did that, how she was able to hunt and bring down such large game, on her own, I have no idea. She wasn’t that much older than we are and I swear she wasn’t a warrior woman, she didn’t even carry any weapon I could see. But one night I sat across her by the fire and, I’m telling you, her eyes… you could see space in them. You know what I mean. Remember it? Endless and ancient. The dust of the universe was in her very being, powering her. And once, on one of the warmer days, she took off her hood, and her hair, man, reflected in the fire it was the color of the sun spun out. This lady was a galaxy in herself.

“Once in the middle of the night we were attacked by a giant bear. Twice as tall as a man with legs as thick as tree trunks. We were awakened by its roar. Most of us were panicking because we had been lulled into thinking we were safe. Clarke-” And upon the utterance of the name, the mutterings of the listeners grew louder. Bellamy, who had tuned out, refocused.

“Clarke Griffin?” Asher asked. “Blonde, about ye-high? Has a scowl that’ll stop you in your tracks? That Clarke?”

“That’s the one,” Mariah replied with an amused smile. The gathered crowd of young pardoned convicts burst into noise.

“Hah! Knew she didn’t go Grounder.”

“Nothing could keep our Clarke down!”

“Not our Princess.”

“What do you mean? You said you thought she had probably frozen out there.”

“I said it was possible! Not probable.”

“Shut up,” Bellamy ordered, moving over to the gathering. “Go on with your story. What happened next?” He tried to do the math. They had been here for how long? Two days? Even if Councilor Griffin had swooped up her daughter and kept her in the medbay, surely by now she’d have gotten out and--and… well… 

Mariah raised an eyebrow, surprised that his words were enough to force her audience into quiet submission, and tried to remember where she left off. “Well… well Clarke, she had been on guard duty. She usually takes the night shift. I don’t know when I ever saw her sleep, she just kept going and going. So she’s there, right? And so’s the bear. The bear roars. She roars back, and her roar  _ thunders _ . It echoes. It makes the world shake. The bear steps back, ready to turn tail and run, but it never got the chance. Clarke had grabbed one of the makeshift spears we carried and thrust it right into the bear’s brain, right between the eyes. It had fallen down dead in front of her by the time the rest of us had even gotten to our feet. We ate bear for a week, and that was even after leaving behind like half of it because we couldn’t carry all the meat. We were still eating bear for dinner when we got here!”

“If Clarke brought you here, how come we haven’t seen her?” Tara, one of the younger of the 47, asked, suspicion lacing her voice.

“She led us here, she didn’t bring us here,” Mariah corrected. “When we were about two day’s journey out from here, she left. Said that we were to just keeping going in this direction and a friend of hers would find us and bring us the rest of the way in. The next day after we had travelled a couple miles, a Grounder came upon us. Well, I say came upon us. Really he appeared in right in front of our party. As quiet as the woman had been. The first one we had seen since that last attack at the caves. Karakov was going to shoot but the Grounder spoke to us in English, saying that Clarke had sent him. So we followed him for the next day or so and then ran into one of your hunting parties. And as soon as we did, the Grounder we were following disappeared himself. The hunting party brought us in and here we are.” She shrugged as she finished her story.

Bellamy heard his thoughts echo in the murmurs of the others.  _ Why hadn’t Clarke come home _ ? He knew she needed space, but to not even swing by to let them know that she was alive? To have him hear it from word of mouth? He couldn’t help but feel disappointed. 

“You said you were Tesla Station, right?” Jiminy asked. “Do you know a Marc Taylor?”

Mariah shook her head. “No. He’s not with us. He may’ve come down with our station but so many of us didn’t make it.”

Others started asking about people they knew, see if their loved ones had survived or, if not, tales of how they died. The group surrounding the girl started to drift apart. Bellamy found Miller and Octavia and went to talk to the Council and see why they had not been made aware of this new development.

  
  


Winter had passed, as had a dozen or so of the citizens of Camp Jaha. What had seemed to be a mild season had tightened its grip in its last days, making it too cold to go outside for any extended amount of time or face frostbite, causing supplies to quickly dwindle. A fever had also swept through the camp. Even with a quick quarantine installed, people died. 

The Forty-Seven were now the Forty. It would have been even less had Lincoln not been there. Bellamy was thankful that the Grounder healer was willing to give the delinquents his full attention, since the medbay was often packed and, even as “pardoned citizens”, his people were often the last to be treated. (They were also typically the last to seek treatment, too proud and too stubborn to admit to needing help.) Bellamy was furious as he laid them to rest by the dropship in the cold, hard ground that they had spent hours breaking up so that they could be among the closest thing most of them had to kin here on the paradisiacal earth that they had been gifted. (The Arc also buried their dead by the drop ship but on the opposite side. Separate stations, even in death.)

Spring came. As the the ground softened, Lincoln taught them what to plant. The Forty passed on the knowledge to the rest of the Arc but many of them were happy to work on the fields. (“It reminds me of home,” Jasper told Bellamy, leaning against a primitive hoe. “Monty and I are hoping to grow some of those nuts for some experiments. Don’t worry, they won’t be mixed with the rest of the crops.”)

When it was clear the cold weather was gone for good, a celebration was thrown. Everyone was allowed the day off from work, with a handful volunteering to work in the kitchens to prepare what passed as a feast. All the buildings were opened up to air out. Singing could be heard from every corner of camp and some people played rough, home-made instruments that they had created while stuck inside during the cold. Bellamy had had to break up two fights over Rock Cabin’s namesake and broke apart a handful of couples getting it on. 

Pregnancy was starting to occur now. The drugs that the Arc had put into their food to help enforce the one-child policy were wearing off and the Council had ruled a one-eighty, that abortion and birth control were now illegal. Since the goal of surviving seemed to be able to be met, repopulation was the next step. Bellamy didn’t think that the kids under his care would be ready to take on the task of being parents yet. He hadn’t realized what was happening until Councilor Griffin had come to him with the information that three of the 40 were in various stages of pregnancy. He raged over the fact that neither had he thought of this possibility of happening nor had the Council alerted him to the possible circumstance. Each of the cabins had then been forced to suffer through Bellamy’s sex ed lecture, which ended with instructions to go see Lincoln before Abby if they were worried that something was wrong. Lincoln was not happy with him for that, as he was now consistently bothered by paranoid teenagers, but his frustration was a price Bellamy was willing to pay. There was little he could do for Monroe, Shale, and Quanna other than support them but he’d make sure no other of his people would be caught unprepared with no idea of the consequences. (He also made sure Raven had a heads-up on the situation since he knew she was awfully close with that engineer who followed her around like a lost puppy.) 

Part of the festival was a huge bonfire, bigger than any of the ones they had made since they realized how long winter was going to last, which forced them to start conserving the wood they had. They had spent a day clearing out an area for it. (Afterwards they were planning on using the space for planting.) The fire reached up towards the sky, taller than any of the buildings they had constructed and wider than two people lying end to end, a proclamation that they were here and they were alive. (It made Bellamy slightly nervous, letting down their guard and shouting out their location like that. But after no sign of trouble from the Grounders nor any revival of the Mountain Men, the Council deemed it safe enough.) The heat was tremendous, forcing people to stand a good ways away from it while basking in its significance.

Octavia convinced Bellamy to relax. Monty was passing around to the Forty illicit moonshine that he and Jasper had been cultivating while the rest of the Arcers made due with softer alcohol from rations. Bellamy took advantage of the latter, wanting to stay alert, or at least upright, because he knew the delinquents would completely let loose. He enjoyed the evening, sitting with his friends, swapping stories, poking fun at Monroe’s swelling stomach, eventually passing out on the Rock with O after making sure the others got home alright.

The next morning when the survivors of the Agro Station appeared with stories of following a blonde woman with burning stars in her eyes who left them once in sight of the towering fire of Camp Jaha, he wasn’t sure which part of him ached worse.

  
  


The weather continued to warm and then started to cool again. The trees once again started changing colors. Bellamy didn’t remember them looking so extravagant the previous year, but then they were under constant threat back then and whatever color the trees were had been the least of his concerns. Now the 40 were mainly split between the fields and the forest, to harvest food and lumber. They weren’t alone, other Arc civilians joining them. The distinctions made between the delinquents and the civilians in the workforce were starting to dwindle. With the influx of people from the Agro and Tesla stations, the idea of the 40 as criminals who survived being abandoned on the ground by turning savage was fading, being replaced with the image of them as independent young adults who were hard workers as reformed criminals. They still stood out in the social sphere, parents not wanting their own children to spend too much time with them, but were able to mingle relatively freely.

Bellamy bounced between jobs, checking on his people wherever they were working, making sure that any upkeep to their buildings was in the process of being done, and looking in on Monroe and Quanna. After Shale had lost her baby after an accident during a hunting party, Councilor Griffin insisted that those who were pregnant refrain from work. It was driving Monroe crazy not to be able to do things and the suggestion of Griffin’s to join the group working on sewing hides to make new clothes did not go over well. She refused to join the circle of elitist gossips (Quanna, on the other hand, was more than happy to take up the offer, and loved to sit around chatting and working with the Arcers). Instead, Bellamy made sure she had some wood and that her knife was always sharp so she could whittle. “We’ll need arrows sooner or later, our ammo can’t last forever,” he had told her, “Or maybe make something for the babe.”

He loved being out with his people working and was frustrated with often being kept within Camp attending meetings. He knew his ability to act as representation was important and didn’t complain but always breathed a sigh of relief when he left the gated village.

One day he went out into the forest, the workers singing, as they often did, their axes all swinging in time, someone different shouting out each verse, the music broken only by the occasional shout of timber and falling trunks. He found the resulting sound beautiful and relaxing. 

“Up in the sky the stars shine gold

Way hey lay me down by

Down on the ground the stars shine cold

Way hey lay me down by

‘Cept for the one and she shines bold

Way hey lay me down by

Down by the dropship we will end.

 

Eyes are the color of the sky

Way hey lay me down by

When her love died she did but sigh

Way hey lay me down by

Happy that she had said goodbye

Way hey lay me down by

Down by the dropship we will end.

 

Finn she did kill for us all here

Way hey lay me down by

Died in her arms but not one tear

Way hey lay me down by

Eyes he had shut knowing no fear

Way hey lay me down by

Down by the dropship we will end.

 

The Heda Lexa fought our own

Way hey lay me down by

And lost three hundred burnt to bone

Way hey lay me down by

All of our might was now here shown

Way hey lay me down by

Down by the dropship we will end.

 

Fought her a beast, the size of th’ Rock

Way hey lay me down by

Took it on down as fast as a hawk

Way hey lay me down by

Killed the thing with a solid knock

Way hey lay me down by

Down by the dropship we will end.

 

Thru the woods past danger she guides

Way hey lay me down by

To have us gather by campside

Way hey lay me down by

This warrior beauty is our pride

Way hey lay me down by

Down by the dropship we will end.

 

Like no one else she scares the dark

Way hey lay me down by

Brought down a mount’n with just a spark,

Way hey lay me down by

We’ll follow her, our woman Clarke.

Way hey lay me down by

Down by the dropship we will end.

 

They say that home is where th’ heart is

Way hey lay me down by

So back she’ll come, the sky princess

Way hey lay me down by

To give her man a proper kiss

Way hey lay me down by

Down by the dropship with our friend.”

 

Bellamy didn’t stick around too long after that, his face burning, going to check on the field workers instead. He knew they also sang but hoped that it would be a different tune. Or, alternatively, maybe he’d go see how Lincoln was doing.

 

Cold set in earlier than expected, rushing winter into their lives once again. It was a race against time to bring in all the harvests and get things properly stored before frosts started to kill everything. Even though they had far more lumber than the previous year, everyone was hesitant to make full use of it, worried that if the weather stayed this way that they’d burn through all the wood they had before things started to thaw. The 42 (for both Monroe’s and Quanna’s babies were born; although the Council offered them rooms by the medbay so they wouldn’t have to walk in the cold for daily check-ups, Monroe insisted on staying with her people with her babe) all crowded into half of their longhouses, leading to high-strung tempers but also more warmth. (“You’re so full of hot air!” Asher once joked to Harper. It took both Bellamy and Miller to pull her back from going for his throat. “Compliment! It was a compliment!” After she took a short walk outside and cooled down, he apologized and the two hugged it out.) 

The nights were long, made longer by Monroe’s addition, dubbed Clarke in honor of the woman who had saved them numerous times but called Little C, waking up and screaming in the dark. This little babe was not reminiscent in the least of the giantess of the tales they told around the fires, except for the disapproving glares she’d set on people. That was more than familiar. There was often an unofficial rotation of baby-duty during the night to help keep her quiet (there was also often muttering that they should just toss her out in the cold for some peace and quiet. These got shut down with disapproving glares from Bellamy) and during the day, as Monroe insisted on rejoining the hunting parties as soon as she could. Monty proved surprisingly adept with the child. To nobody’s surprise, so was Bellamy. Having experience from helping to raise Octavia, it was widely believed that he knew more about what to do with Little C than Monroe did, even with all the classes the Arc put her through to prepare her for motherhood. (Monroe didn’t try too hard to fight this perception as it meant that he was more likely to be handed the baby when it was screaming then she was, and she knew her child was in good hands and could continue with what she was doing.) Bellamy didn’t mind, even though he knew it fueled the rumours that he was the father. It was nice to have someone to look after who could fit in his arms.

One night a Council meeting ran exceedingly long as members argued over how to re-organize work teams come warmer weather so they could send a group to scout out further afield. There hadn’t been any real sightings of Grounders since Lincoln had arrived but few of the leaders didn’t find the radio silence slightly suspicious. The Chancellor thought that since they had been able to get through the past year without too much trouble, this coming year everyone would be able to do things more efficiently, since they had some experience under their belt, and that they should take the opportunity to explore. Councillor Hardison, who had come with the remnants of the Agro station, argued for working more on the colony, using ex-Chancellor Jaha’s expedition, assumed to have been a failure that led to the deaths of all concerned for surely otherwise word would've been sent back, to defend the assertion that the Arc didn’t have enough of a population to throw away on doomed exploration missions. When Councillor Karakov started to contend that the 40 were perfect candidates for such an operation, having experience surviving whatever Earth threw at them and being relatively expendable, Bellamy contested that his people were supposed to have been pardoned and had exchanged the title of ‘expendable’ to that of ‘integral citizens who keep the colony running’ and thus could no longer be forced to go on suicidal missions. (He knew a fair amount of them would still jump at the chance to leave the camp, finding it too confining for comfort but he would make sure it was of their own volition.) The back and forth had been exhausting. Was such an expedition worthwhile, was now a good time for it, who would go, when would they go, how would they go, what would they go with. No consensus had been reached by the early hours of the morning when they finally dismissed with the intention of reviewing the subject again at the next meeting.

Bellamy stumbled exhaustedly into Rock, instinctively looking for Little C, who was currently being rocked to sleep in the arms of Octavia, before finally finding his own bed in the dark. He, like the babe, fell asleep to the soft lullaby she was quietly singing, a bastardization of the one he sung to her when she was that young, and words in his sister’s voice wound itself into his dreams.  _ Twinkle twinkle, little star, how I wonder where you are, out somewhere under the sky, one day you will come say hi, to this little bugger of a namesake, twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder where you are _ .

  
  


During a strange weekend in midwinter when it was warm enough to venture outside without freezing, Lincoln had come bearing news about a group of refugee Grounders coming down their way, seeking sanctuary from the Ice Queen of the North. He wouldn’t divulge his source of information, merely saying that they could expect the guests in a couple weeks, and that it would be to the benefit of all if the gates were open to them. 

The Council was not overly pleased with the news, still suspicious of all things Grounder, and hesitant to open their camp to once-enemies. Kane pointed out that there had been no signs of hostility from the Grounders since the Mountain fell and the news that Clarke had brokered a stronger alliance with them. Griffin then pointed out how trustworthy Commander Lexa had been with the first alliance, abandoning them at the very doors of danger. Bellamy took the opportunity to point out how useful Lincoln alone had been to the camp, with his knowledge in the land and healing arts. How much more useful would a number of people who had lived on the ground for their whole lives be, let alone just the extra manpower they’d provide. There wouldn’t even need to be an expedition to find more land, the Grounders probably already had it all mapped out with information on other inhabitants. Karakov voiced the concern that sheltering the Grounders could bring the wrath of this so-called Ice Queen down on them and the Arc was not in a position where they could fight an unnecessary war. Let them come and reclaim TonDC, he said, but don’t let them in our walls. It was another long day of arguing.

A solid decision still hadn’t been reached by the time the hunting party brought news of a Grounder company approaching. The Council had a rushed meeting and were still arguing when a horn sounded at their gates and a tall, dark unfamiliar Grounder called out, “We are Rakakru and Heda Clarke promised us sanctuary.” The invocation of Clarke Griffin’s name, the honorary Sky Princess, convinced Councilor Griffin to let them in, at least on a temporary basis. Bellamy was instructed to see them settled into the longhouses that the 42 had abandoned for the winter and he was unsurprised that these unwanted guests were put in his domain. He conversed in broken Trigedasleng with the man who led the group, Enree, since even though the heda knew English, it was with a heavy accent Bellamy wasn’t familiar with, leading him to promise that he’d get Octavia and Lincoln to come help interpret.

That night was another Council meeting, which basically served as a light interrogation of Enree after a couple hours of arguing. His guard, a fierce-looking woman called Detta, and Octavia, who came for the sake of translation and had brought her strapped-on blades and surly scowl, served as a deterrent against more openly hostile behavior. The story he told fleshed out the bare bones that Lincoln had told them. The Ice Queen had decided to take advantage of the harsh winter and make her move south, breaking the alliance of the 12 clans and leading to many deaths by starvation and exposure in addition to outright bloodshed. Commander Lexa was working to bring the Ice Nation back under heel but the early onset of the cold had depleted their stores and weakened her people. The Alliance seemed to be gaining ground once the Wanheda had rejoined the Commander but it was still deemed prudent to send those who were relatively useless in battle further south, where the weather was milder. “The Wanheda said that under the treaty she had signed, her people would help us survive the danger of winter since our people are keeping the danger of the Ice Nation North, so you can survive,” Enree concluded. “We are grateful for the shelter and stores.”

“You and your people are welcome to stay as long as you need, as long as you pull your weight and contribute to the community,” Chancelor Griffin said graciously. (This was the final result of the Council’s bickering, brought about mainly by the claimed promise of sanctuary and the worry of whatever vengeance the ghost of Clarke “Wanheda” Griffin could bring if that promise was broken: the Grounders could stay as long as they remained harmless enough, abided by the rules of the Arc, and worked for their suppers, much as the 40 did.) “Mr. Blake will lead you back to the dining hall with the rest of your people. You must be hungry. Tomorrow he’ll get you set up on the work rotations.” She gave a nod, dismissing them so Bellamy led the two Rakakru and his sister out with the other council members looking on suspiciously. 

 

The Rakakru settled in almost as quickly as the Arc remnants had. They did the work they were asked to quickly and efficiently, keeping to themselves for the most part. All the members of the Arc stayed away from them if possible, still wary. Some of the 40 were very displeased with having to share their supplies with the outsiders, the pang of fighting against them to survive when they first reached Earth still too sharp to dismiss. Raven stopped swinging by the 40’s longhouses. Bellamy tried to encourage interaction, backed by Kane, assigning shared work details and organizing exchanges of information. He considered it a success whenever he heard members of the two groups speak to each other in a broken conglomeration of languages.

A second group of Grounders arrived after a long snow-in. These were welcomed more easily than the first group, although with a tinge of bitterness for the load they’d be on the dwindling supplies. The Rakakru were overjoyed upon seeing more of their tribe and threw a celebration in the outskirts of the camp where the longhouses were. When Karakov complained against the use of firewood, Bellamy gently pointed out that they had gathered it in addition to their normal loads of lumber and had the right to do with it as they would and that maybe instead of complaining he would prefer to come enjoy the warmth and some moonshine that the Rakakru had helped teach Monty and Jasper to ferment. (Karakov just huffed off although later in the night Bellamy had seen him with a mug in hand.)

It was his evening to have Little C and Bellamy was more than happy to bundle her up and bring her out to the festivities. The babe had become a hit with the Grounders when Bellamy had first brought her with him to check on the workers. They got a kick out of the little thing being named after the Wanheda and had started to make little knotted charms to adorn her blankets as if she was one of their own. Bellamy enjoyed joining the fireside group of the watchers of the Rakakru children, passing Little C around the circle as Grounder children ended up in his own arms. (This didn’t please Monroe too much. She had seen too many of her friends killed by the Grounders to be completely comfortable with them handling her baby but she trusted Bellamy’s judgment and no harm had come to Little Clarke yet so she let it slide and kept herself busy gutting the day’s hunt.)

As the night grew later, Bellamy found himself sitting on a log by the fire, holding Little C and Enree’s two-year old nephew Jacka on his lap, surrounded by eight other children, two of which were Arcers, in various stages of drifting off to sleep listening to Tesha, the oldest Grounder woman he had probably ever seen, tell stories. He loved hearing these new folktakes and comparing them with the old Earthen tales he had studied while on the Arc. There were definite resemblances between Tesha’s story of the girl who saved her family after they were eaten by a wolf by cutting its stomach open and the folktale Little Red that Bellamy was familiar with. 

“Tell us about the Wanheda, Nomon,” one of the Rakakru children asked after Tesha had finished describing how the wolf was now pinned in the sky.

“It is late, I am old, I should go rest,” Tesha replied. The children all pouted and begged for one more story and the old woman was easily won over, barely protesting. “Fine. This is the last story and then to bed with all of us, yes? Yes. I shall tell how Wanheda brought down a mountain not too far from here, the Maunde.

“It is known that she comes to the Ground, sent with others of her people, to see if it is possible to live here. Her people had run away to the stars to escape the destruction that our people survived and they had forgotten about us. When she lands, she thinks her and her people are alone. She soon learns she is wrong when she encounters the Trikru. Our two peoples fight until one looming threat forces us together. Both the Trikru and the Skaikru are in the shadow of the mountain and in reach of the monsters within.

“One day, the Trikru and the Skaikru fight a big fight. The Wanheda leads the children of the Skaikru and kills three hundred of our warriors. But there is a bigger fight to come for while they attempt to recover, the Maunon sweep in and captures all the Skaikru while their defenses are down and hides them in their mountain. The Wanheda is among those captured.

“The Maunon tempt the Skaikru goufa with food and comforts. The Wanheda sees through these tricks, she knows the men are no good. While looking for a way out, she finds Anya of Trigedakru and frees her from the cage. Together they escape the mountain. But they know they must save their people. In their escape, Anya is killed by the wiley ways of the maunon and Wanheda swears vengeance, for the two had grown close in their trials.

“The Wanheda knows she cannot bring down the mountain on her own, or so she thinks, since this is just the beginning of her great deeds. She does not yet know her own strength. So she goes to Heda Lexa and requests her help. Jus drein jus daun, the mountain men had to pay for the deaths of hundreds and the creation of their monstrous reapers, so the Heda agrees under the condition that the Skaikru hand over the man who killed a village. This man is close to the Wanheda but she knows fairness and so agrees but instead of letting the Trigedakru cut him as to our ways, she kills him herself so he dies in her arms. The Heda agrees that blood had blood and the alliance is forged. 

“A four-pronged plan is thought of. The Wanheda’s second-in-command, this man you see here, Bellamy Blake, is sent inside the Mountain to free our captured people so when the signal is given there will be no relief from attack. Two Skaikru warriors are sent to destroy the dams, which would lead to the protection on the door failing so we can break through. Indra leads a group of warriors down into the tunnels to protect the escaped captives. Heda Lexa and Wanheda lead the combined armies to attack the mountain head on.

“Everything seems to be going according to plan when the sly Maunon make a deal with Heda Lexa. If she withdraws, they will free her people, no more harm done. It is the best chance the Heda has to keep her people safe for despite the strong plan, many had already fallen under the attack. It is a commander’s duty to keep her people safe above all else. She knows the Wanheda will be angry with her but she does her duty. Her people are freed and we withdraw. She knows that the Wanheda is strong, stronger and more powerful than even she can imagine, and will still succeed and will avenge the deaths of Trigedakru as well as save the captured Skaikru youths.

“The Skaikru, upon seeing us leave, are disheartened and also fall back. All but the Wanheda. Her people are still within Maunde and she will not leave them. Her eyes glare as cold as the stars at the retreating figures. The earth under her shakes as she turns her eyes on the mountain. She goes underground through the reaper tunnels to the door where she first escaped. Octavia Blake kum Skaikru, abandoned by and abandoning in turn Indra’s gonakru, is still there, unwilling to leave her brother swallowed by the mountain. Together the women blast their way into the bunker, meet up with their inside man, and find their people in the bowels of the earth. The Skaikru youths are being tortured, strapped to tables and trapped in cages. The three free their people. But it is not enough. There are too many of the Maunon and the Wanheda knows that they will never let her people live in peace for the Maunon found a way to suck the life out of the Skaikru so that they could leave the mountain and experience the ground, a privilege they lost when they abandoned it and burrowed underneath the earth to survive, leaving all others to perish from the bombs.

“The Wanheda talks with the commander of the Maunon. She has taken his father captive and tries to bargain for her people’s freedom in exchange for his life. The heart of the heda of the mountain men is as hard as the rock beneath his feet and he refuses the offer and watches as she kills the man who bore him. She makes one last offer: let them leave and she will spare them. For at her disposal she has the power to flood the Maunde with air from the outside, which will kill all the Maunon. Again, he refuses the offer. He refuses to surrender. His pride overrules his duty to his people. The Wanheda loves life, she holds it sacred. She knows there are innocents in the mountain, children who only share their parents’ crimes by default. But her people must come first. She cannot let this be a bluff if he calls her out for then her people are doomed. The Skaikru are used to the difficult decisions to take the life of a few to save the many. Was she herself not sent down as a sacrifice? And so she flushes the mountain with the air of our lungs. The Maunon screams echo down their tunnels. It is not long before the Skaikru are the only living creatures left. 

“The Wanheda leads her people home. They move slowly as many are wounded and short of blood. She makes sure all still living reach the Skaikru camp. There are six of their people whose bodies are lost under Maunde with the bodies of the Maunon and she mourns them all. The sight of her people still living is unable to bring her comfort, it only brings to the forefront of her mind all of the death she had a hand in. She resolves to leave her people for the time being, until the day her soul is cleansed and she can return to look them in the face once more. Until then, she watches over them from afar as the moon watches over its children on the ground.”

Silence reigns as Tesha wraps her story up, the only noise in their vicinity coming from the fire. She gives a sharp clap, breaking the spell. “Come, yongons, to bed with us. It is late.” 

Tesha and another of the mothers sitting with them started to herd the yawning children to the longhouses. Jacka was handed off and Bellamy was left with a few others who lingered by the fire, Little C asleep in his arms. A couple of the older kids looked at Bellamy with wide eyes and he heard a hushed mutter of, “He is friends with the Wanheda? Whoa.”

One of the men around the fire smiled over at him. “You must have some good stories of Wanheda herself.” The man nodded down at Little C. “Clarke must know of the greatness of her namesake.”

Bellamy shifted, uncomfortable. “I should go take her to her mother. It is getting late.” He excused himself, leaving the warmth of the fire to find Monroe. It was only after he reached Rock that he remembered that the hunting expedition she had left on wasn’t expected to return until the morrow. Sighing, he decided to just go ahead and put Little C to bed himself and turn in as well.

  
  


As the weather grew warmer, the stream of new Grounders to the camp dried up. The snow was finally melting and the nights were growing mild, which was good as the shelters Bellamy oversaw on the outskirts were becoming overcrowded. They had gone ahead and started to build a couple new ones but it was slow going with the still-thawing ground. Some people had begun to sleep outside under the stars, finding it more comfortable.

Once again, after the winter appeared to be over for good, a celebration was held. The Grounders practiced traditions of their own, some of which the Arcers found odd (such as the hunt for colored rocks by children that a couple of the adults had hid around camp; the child who found the most won the prize of a special dessert) while others they were more than happy to join in on (the feasting with special prepared dishes were a favorite). When they started arranging a ball game tournament, many of the 41 (another one of Bellamy’s charges was lost to a fever over the winter) and young Arcers when they had time off hung around the field where the Grounders practiced. The two groups each formed teams of their own and requested to join the tournament and were practically laughed out of the running. But with some persistence and a quiet word from Bellamy to Octavia to Lincoln, the 41 were allowed to enter a team. Of course, a month’s worth of practice was no match to the Grounders’ years so they didn’t make it past the first round. However, the taste of the game was enough to get the players of the Skycrew Destroyers (the name of the team they had chosen themselves, even though it became a good-natured running joke that they were the ones who had been destroyed in the tournament) to resolve to play again, and play better, next year.

Things were going well. The Council once again started making plans for an expedition, this time first gaining more information about the area from Lincoln, Enree, and the other Grounder leaders, allowing them to fill out a relatively complete map of all the nearby area, from several hundred miles both north and south and as far east as a great body of water and as far west as the mountains (it was past this, into the desert, that they decided to send the expedition). The additions to the workforce that the Grounders provided not only meant that they could do without the citizens needed for the expedition, but they almost needed to since supplies were still low from the winter and the increase of people meant more mouths to feed. 

And then, when the weather became stifling, when the air was already thick enough that it seemed determined to dissuade anyone from moving, came the rains, the pouring, torrential rains that seemed to never end. The only difference between day and night was the gray quality of the light. Everything was starting to flood and to mold. The Grounders were quick to point out the need to get the food up off the ground, and had done so to their own bounty as soon as the rain started, but the moisture in the air still caused much of it to go start growing fungus. Multiple hunting parties were sent out in the downpour to try to find some prey but came back empty handed more often than not. The animals knew better than to leave whatever shelter they had. Then there came the sickness. The Arc was out of medicines and the sources of the Grounders’ plant-based medicines were currently drowned in the floods. With sickness came death and trying to dig graves was a hopeless job, with every shoveled hole immediately filled in with water. 

Soaked and hungry, sick and dying, the Council decided to retreat. It was unanimous. They once again went to Mount Weather. It was the first time most had actually entered the walls. The corridors had the empty, abandoned feeling of death. The now 30 were on edge as soon as they entered the shadow of the Mountain. Once inside breathing the stale air, none of them could keep still, antsy. The Council put everyone to work cleaning, clearing out spaces to make them more habitable before the others settled in. Bellamy sent Octavia and a kru to search all the tunnels and vents to make sure that they had neither the Maunde nor the Reapers bedding down.

The Grounders were also unnerved by being in the mountain that once belonged to their oppressors but they spent their adrenaline rush dancing around, claiming the tunnels in the name of the Commander and the Wanheda, singing in trigedasleng songs of praise and scratching their marks into the walls. The Maunde had fallen and this place was theirs, they sang. There was no room for the old ghosts for the space was to be inhabited once again by the truly living, by those who knew the taste of the world and the feel of the fresh air. This place was theirs, in the name of the Wanheda, the woman with hair of the sun and eyes of the sky. This place was theirs, in the name of the Commander, the Leader of leaders, the first and the last, who brought victory in her footsteps and safety in her embrace. This place was theirs and the past had no hold. Bellamy half expected the Grounders to toss flowers and adorn the hallways with vines. But then, all the flowers had been drowned and the only vines that they had salvaged to bring with them were to be used as ropes, not as decoration.

Unlike the Grounders, the 30 closed in on themselves, absentmindedly running their hands over their sheathed knives and sticking close to one another, eyeing the shadows and watching their backs. Monroe refused to part with Little C when one of the Grounders wanted to parade the child down the halls with the others, to join in the “blessing.” She shooed the woman away and switched the wrapping so the babe was bound to her chest rather than to her back as she continued on with her work making the area liveable. 

That evening most of the living went to sleep in what used to be the dormitories that housed the one hundred. The 30 refused to step foot in that room, despite whatever physical cleaning had been done by the Arcers or spiritual cleansing done by the Grounders. Instead they pulled mattresses out of living quarters and huddled together in the common room, their thoughts they attempted to keep from their minds about their time here previously or those who had died here, in this very spot, were loud, echoing across the vast room, causing them to move closer together despite their sudden claustrophobia. Even Little C sensed the solemn air and kept silent. They slept little that night.

The next day was no better. While the Arcers and the Grounders settled in gracefully enough, the 30 were still sprung tighter than a spring, tensions running high, never a good thing for the former convicts. Bellamy found himself constantly breaking up fights. He threatened to take away their knives, which were unneeded here under the mountain where food came in cans rather than in tough hides, after he caught Harper pulling a knife on Jiminy. 

On the third day, he heard the Counsel start to complain about the behavior of the 30. Karakov off-handedly suggested throwing them back out into the rain to cool off. Bellamy wasn’t so sure that was a terrible idea except for the fact that almost half of his people were trying to fight off colds in addition to ghosts. Enree claimed that the rain would stop soon. “These rains never last long time,” he assured. Bellamy prayed that he was right. The silent ghosts were too loud at night and his people needed peace before they broke into pieces. He felt the same need to run that he was sure sent Clarke away. (For the first time, he was glad she wasn’t here with him. The past would have choked the life out of her.)

On what was believed as the fifth day (time was an unfamiliar thing in the mountain), the rain stopped. Bellamy immediately volunteered the healthy of the 30 to go on a scouting mission, which the Council accepted. Outside the ground sucked at their feet and there were swarms of biting insects. There were trees down and the damage to their camp was extensive. But they were glad to be out in the open air again. The party did a quick clean of the buildings, tossing out into the open all the destroyed and molding items. Luckily the shelters that came from the station, such as the medbay, weren’t too badly off; the roofs had held and most of the furnishings were metal or plastic and so hadn’t been too affected by the water flooding the floors. The cabins that they had built, on the other hand, would need complete overhauls.

The sixth day inside the mountain was the worst because his people were antsy now that the rain had stopped. On the seventh day, the 30 left to go back to camp, joined by some of the Grounders. The others stayed, preferring the dry comfort that the tunnels provided, willing to wait until Camp Jaha was completely inhabitable once again. The Council tried to insist that Monroe, Little C, and Quanna and her child Ash stay safe in the Mountain. Both the mothers pushed back and refused. Councilor Griffin was surprised by Quanna’s rebellion as she was usually so cooperative, but Bellamy wasn’t. She was still a member of the 30, still haunted by the Maunde, and still prized her freedom. Even the sick members of his people insisted on leaving. “I’d rather die out there where I can breathe,” Jehanna told him in between hacking up her lungs to the point that Bellamy was worried that was exactly what would happen. Even Raven, beloved by Councilor Griffin, was leaving the mountain with them, with her puppy of an engineer following her. Bellamy was grateful that he’d have both her company and her skills with them.

It was almost like the first few weeks on the ground: just them, starting from nothing, working against the clock in miserable conditions. But this was at the same time so very different: they were fewer in number and weaker but they had the Grounders working with them rather than against them and they knew what they had to do because  _ they had already done it once _ and that was empowering. A secondary council was formed, led by him and Enree with Lincoln, Detta, Octavia, Miller, and Raven also serving. Once again, Bellamy and his people laid the basis for civilization while the full members of the Arc held back, waiting for proof that it was safe. He couldn’t help but feel a void next to him but ignored it and threw himself into his work.

  
  


Time passed, as it does. Many of the older citizens of the Arc never left the mountain, even after Camp Jaha was re-established, feeling more at home and safe within the tunnels than they could out in the wide-open air, so the secondary council created by Bellamy and the Grounders continued to reign over the camp while the original Council met underground in their new base of operations.

Bellamy was grateful that members of the Trigedakru stayed with them rather than going back to try to resuscitate the bombed Ton-DC, which was in about equal shape as the camp after the flooding rains. There was still a relatively steady stream of new Grounders, although these were either wounded warriors or pregnant women (sometimes one and the same), who were often frustrated with their health-mandated exile from the War going on in the North. It was sometimes difficult to find them activities strenuous enough to make them feel helpful and burn out their aggression but would not aggravate their physical conditions, a balancing act of the highest caliber. 

These newcomers brought with them stories of battles and bloodshed, victory and loss. Around the campfires, no matter the season, there could be found a gaggle surrounding a warrior telling the latest news: the Commander was leading them to victory; the Wanheda was leading them to victory; the Commander was killed but the Wanheda fought off Death and brought her back to life (this was a favorite tale and there were several versions floating around camp. One had the Wanheda challenge Death to a battle of wits while another had her simply run Death through with his own scythe. Bellamy’s favorite was where her taunts drove Death into a mad rage and then she beat him in battle, granting him mercy in exchange for the Commander’s soul. He thought it sounded most like the Clarke he knew). Oftentimes the war sounded like it’d end soon but then there would be a new large wave of Grounders come to Camp Jaha to recoup.

As the seasons changed, some did recover from their injuries and headed back North. Bellamy didn’t begrudge them this, despite how these were usually the most useful to have around to help in the fields or on the hunts. Often he was half-tempted to go himself, a feeling that was reinforced when instead of sending people on an exploration expedition, the Council instead sent those members to help with the Grounder War effort, under the reasoning that it’d be safer to explore once peace was achieved. He was fine sending some of the rougher of the 30, like Hammel and Rube, who he was pretty sure were both in detention for murder although his suspicions were never confirmed, and accepted the loss of those itching for more adventure, such as Asher and Lateesh. But then Octavia asked to go, and he knew that the request was merely obligatory. She was going to leave him even if he said no.

“We can’t lose both you and Lincoln, O,” he told her instead. “I need you here.”

She waved off his concern. “I’ve already talked it over with Lincoln. He’s staying.” Bellamy could only imagine the fight that must’ve occurred between the couple; he knew Lincoln would hate staying behind as much as he did. “We both know he’s the best healer you have here. Can’t have you dying while I’m gone.” She gave him a smile. “Just think of it as a long hunting trip. You don’t need me here anymore anyways. You’re plenty threatening on your own.”

He and Lincoln stood stoically by the gates when she and the next batch of healed Grounders headed out. Octavia gave them each of them a hug and a quick kiss. “I need to do this,” she told Bellamy. To Lincoln she said, “I’ll be back.” Bellamy swore to himself that if she didn’t, he would go find her and bring her home. He wasn’t losing her again. The two men watched the group leave until the forest fully swallowed them up.

“Stop moping,” Monroe told him a few days later, as she herded bumbling Little C over to where he was sitting near the fire finishing off breakfast. Since the floods, she had become the right-hand woman of Kis, the Grounder tracker who had taken charge of the hunting party, and she preferred leaving Clarke with Bellamy rather than with the Grounder children, as Quanna did, or with the Arcers. (“You’re the best of both worlds,” she had admitted to him one night after a bonfire and some of Monty’s and Jasper’s moonshine had them laying together in the cabin, sharing furs for warmth, “And I know you’d protect Clarke with your life.”)  “You’re not the only one staying here for other people.” She stroked Little C’s dark hair, smiled, and punched his shoulder before heading off.

Bellamy sighed and looked down at the child, who was reaching up to him giggling. “The two of us make quite the pair, don’t we?” He picked her up and swung her up onto his shoulders, much to her delight. “Both of us left behind. No matter. Let’s go make the rounds. We’ve got responsibilities.” Sometimes it boggled his mind how he started as a janitor and ended up as a leader and Councilor. And yet both positions were typically just him cleaning up the messes of other people.

 

The only word Bellamy received of O was from Lincoln, who sometimes accompanied the warriors on the way back to the North to bring supplies, and from the tales the wounded brought back with them. Time dragged on. Camp Jaha fell into the routine of the seasons of both the weather and the war.

“Tell the story about Auntie O and Wanheda!” Little C begged at the campfire, where she sat with the other children. There were more little ones now, both Grounder and Arcer, although very few from the 23 (Bellamy kept careful tally of his people who had gone off and each time the brought a body back to bury by the dropship his heart dropped further; sometimes there wasn’t even a body, just the news that Rube had finally bit the dust after finally biting off more than he could chew).

“Which one?” Lateesh asked. She had come back from battle after a couple seasons passed, missing an arm and some fingers but with more stories and scars than the children could shake a stick at. 

“The one with the gun!” another little girl, Sua, shouted.

“No, no! The one where they drink the whole lake!”

“They don’t drink the lake,” little Luka said doubtfully. “No one can drink a lake.”

“ _ They  _ could,” Sua shot back.

“They  _ drain  _ the lake,” Little C corrected. She took pride in being one of the older children and in her place as in-between of all the peoples as a child of the ex-convicts.

“I wanna hear when the snowmen get ‘em,” Jeni said excitedly.

“The gun!”

“The lake!”

“The snowmen!”

“The kiss!”

Bellamy, sitting beneath a pile of children on his lap, blinked at that. He hadn’t heard that one before. “Kiss?” he asked. “What kiss?”

Little C turned to face him. “It was when they were under the mountain fighting the snowmen and one pushed Auntie O and she fell down down down into the dark water, making a big splash! And then when Wanheda saw that she was missing she dived down to get her even though the Heda told her not to and under the water she had to fight monsters to get Auntie O back and then when she finally got her out of the water, she had to kiss her to call back her soul from where it stayed under the water and so then she woke up and Auntie O didn’t hate her anymore,” she told him all in one breath. “Lateesh tells it better though.” She looked over at Lateesh sheepishly.

Lateesh just laughed and reached over to ruffle a hand through Little C’s hair. “That’s alright, Clarkey, you did a fine job. I’ll just tell the story about their disagreement about guns.” A few of the children let out a cheer. 

In the distance Bellamy heard his name being called so he shuffled out from the children, moving them off his legs and onto the ground. “I’ll be back, don’t go wandering,” he told Little C, giving her a quick kiss to the top of her head.

“Okay, Nontu.” She moved to sit closer to Lateesh, who started in on her tale. He had given up years ago trying to explain to her that he wasn’t her father. (“Why not?” she had asked. “Because I didn’t help make you,” he reasoned. “But you did my hair, you helped make me pretty today,” she pointed out, and wouldn’t hear another word about it. He told Monroe the next time she came home from a hunting trip and she laughed for five minutes straight. “Outsmarted by a kid,” she said grinning, shaking her head. “How do we ever survive under your leadership.” 

Bellamy made his way over to where he saw Miller walking towards him with Lincoln following a step behind. “There’s an emergency council meeting,” Miller said once he reached them. Bellamy immediately fell into step as they changed directions. “The gonakru came back with bad news. The Ice Queen’s people broke through the Southern lines of defense. They’re about three days out.”

Three days was not a lot of time. “Let me guess. The Arc wants us to hole up in Mount Weather until reinforcements come.” If the people cooperated, it would maybe be possible to get everyone inside by then. But the chances of that was low. There were more who’d rather stand their ground and fight than cower underground.

“The matter hasn’t had a chance to be discussed yet,” Miller answered, “but that does seem to perhaps be best strategy for preservation of life. The Maunde lived in there for years undisturbed. They were only brought down from the inside.” He shot Bellamy a smile. 

“With help,” Bellamy said gruffly. “Did the gonakru say when there would be reinforcements?” His mind whirled. Between their current batch of wounded warriors, the hunters they had on-site, and the old batch of guards from the Arc, they had maybe fifty people who knew their way around weapons. Ten more, if they got word to the hunters out on trips to return. About a quarter of them were familiar with guns, although their ammo stores were not infinite. He wondered if he could convince the Council to let Raven rig up some land mines with the gunpowder instead of devoting it all to bullets.

“No. The kru ran here as soon as the defense fell. They had sent word three days prior that the outlook there was looking grim but hadn’t heard a reply. If we assume that their messenger was caught and never made it to base camp, then it may be as much as a month before help arrives.”

“Damn.”

“But if we assume that reinforcements were already on their way to the Southern line, then it could be as few as five days,” Miller finished.

When they reached the stables, their horses were already tacked and Enree, Detta, and Raven were waiting for them. Bellamy thanked the young man holding the reins to his horse and soon enough they were off to the Mountain. They rode hard, knowing that time was of the essence. Upon their arrival, they were immediately shown into the alcove that the Arcers had made into the Council Room. The members of the Mountain Council were already all in attendance and arguing. Their presence hardly caused a lapse.

“Welcome, and please take a seat,” Chancellor Griffin offered, gesturing towards their empty seats at the table. “I presume you’ve already been made aware of the situation.”

“I suggest we immediately move the elderly and the children into the Mountain and have the warriors and hunters set up camp nearby,” Bellamy said, taking his seat. 

“This will allow osir to bring in as much fresh meat as we can before the siege commences in full,” Enree agreed.

“We only have three days,” Hardison said, “It will take that long to get everyone inside, including the warriors and hunters.”

“Are there enough supplies?” Karakov pointed out. “The fields have been planted but not harvested. The bastards could feast on our yields while we starve underground.”

“Do we know how strong the Azgeda force is?” Detta asked. “We have a good force here and they will not be used to the heat.” She grinned menacingly. “It will be easy to wear them out. They will melt under the sun.”

“There were enough to break through the Southern line, which means it’s a force to be reckoned with. I will not risk people unnecessarily,” the Chancellor interrupted.

The meeting did not last as long as most Council meetings. They were all feeling the pressure of the threat currently marching towards them and knew that decisions had to be made quickly one way or the other. Before nightfall, Bellamy, Lincoln, and Enree were making their way back to Camp Jaha to start the migration while Miller, Raven, and Detta stayed at Mount Weather to help oversee preparations there.

Bellamy went first to the mess hall to grab some leftovers from dinner and then went to check with the heads of the different branches of industry at the camp to let them know what was coming and see what they’d need to speed up the process. Enree and Lincoln had continued on into the forest to bring back the two hunting parties that were out. 

It was practically morning before he found himself making his way back to Rock for a quick nap. In the dim gray light of pre-morning, he looked around saw Little C curled up in the bunk next to Monty’s. The cabin always looked so empty when the hunting parties were out, all those empty spaces. He collapsed into his bed without much more thought and was out like a shooting star.

He was awoken after a just a couple hours by the feeling of cold feet through the fabric of his pants. “Clarke, go put some socks on,” he grumbled. “Don’t wanna,” he heard her reply as she snuggled closer. He groaned but managed to pass back out until a cackling sound brought him back to consciousness.

“Nomo!” Little C rocketed herself out from under the loose blanket into Monroe’s arms.

“Hey there, little one,” Monroe cooed, smoothing Little C’s hair from her face. “How about you go get dressed while I talk to Bellamy?”

“Will you be here for breakfast?” the little girl asked, shining eyes looking up.

“Wouldn’t dream of missing it,” she said, sending her scurrying off on her way. The hunter turned her attention back to Bellamy, where he had pulled himself into a sitting position. Her mouth quirked into a crooked grin at the sight of his rumpled form. “I come running back home at the word of a Grounder invasion and here I find you laying in bed with a beautiful brunette. Reminds me of old times.”

“Oh shut up.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing slightly as he came across tangled knots. “How was the haul?”

“Season of plenty. Brought in two bucks and caught a couple leporids from traps. Now, tell me more about the news.” She fixed him with a serious stare. “Is it true that you’re having us crawl back underground? We’ve held our own against the Grounders before.”

“Through sheer luck.” He stretched, stifling a yawn.

“Skill,” Monroe insisted.

“And we lost far too many. And now there’s more than just us. There are kids to consider.”

She tossed back her head. “We were kids.”

“Do you really want Little Clarke out at risk?”

“No,” she reluctantly admitted, looking over at where her daughter was fumbling through a trunk for cleaner day clothes. “But do we all have to go? That place gives me the creeps.”

Bellamy stood up and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know. It won’t be for long.” He hoped. “And the plan is to try to keep some hunters and warriors out as long as possible. I’ll make sure you’re one of them.”

She gave him a look. “You’re not a warrior, Bellamy.”

“Who are you kidding? I shot the Chancellor and killed the Mountain Men,” he tried to joke. 

“We need you to keep safe.”

“And when the Ice Men make their appearance, we will all retreat to the mountain, myself included.”

Monroe rolled her eyes but refrained from replying as Little C was hopping over, still trying to get a leg through her pants while hurrying back to where the two adults were standing. “Did Bellamy tell you we’re going on a trip?” she asked, scooping her up into her arms, a feat that wouldn’t be possible for much longer.

Little C’s eyes widened. “All of us? Where?”

“All of us. We’re going to Mount Weather.”

The little girl gasped. “To Maunde? Is it going to flood again?” The only times she had been underground was when they fled the heavy rains.

“No, no floods this time,” Monroe answered as she headed out, calling back over her shoulder, “We’ll see you at breakfast, lunch at the latest.”

“Good. I hate it when it gets all muddy,” he heard Little C say as it faded out of range, and threw on a change of shirts with a small smile. That kid.

He never did make it to breakfast, getting swept up into preparations to move out. It was lucky in a way that they did have those seasonal heavy rains that forced them to remain relatively easy to uproot but since this was out of season, people were more settled. 

Jasper cornered him after mid-day in Raven’s workroom, where he had retreated to help Wick pack up all her tools and projects. “Come on, man, you need to take a breather.”

“There’s no time,” Bellamy argued, trying to swat him away like an annoying fly. “We’ve got to get this on the first caravan out, which needs to leave in a few hours.” He had won the argument for Raven being in charge of experimental war weapons and while the Arc held most of their tools and supplies at Mount Weather, he knew that having her own tools would help the mechanic immensely. Also he didn’t want the Ice People to get their hands on anything that Raven thought was worth owning.

“Monty’s here to give you a break while you go grab a bite to eat,” Jasper told him. “He knows his way around here better than you do. You know Raven will have your head if you mix up the wires.” Monty took the moment to stick his own head in through the doorway and gave a little wave.

Bellamy scowled down the worktable, still covered in nuts and bolts and wires and various pieces of things he didn’t even know the terms for. “Fine. But help me move that box out.” Together they managed to manhandle the full box of heavy tools and scraps of metal from the left corner of the room out to the wagon dedicated to the mechanic’s things. He then tried to just walk back inside, and it did take Jasper a moment to realize what he was doing before he went after him.

“Come on, boss, to the kitchens with you.”

“Don’t touch me.” Bellamy shook the lanky youth off of him. “You’ll ruin my tough-guy image.” Jasper persisted in guiding him to the mess hall and refused to leave his side until he saw Bellamy take a bowl of stew and a handful of berries. Even then the distiller took a seat next to him, a bowl of berries in his own hands to munch on as he kept an eye on his fearless leader. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” Bellamy asked him.

“Nope,” he said pleasantly. “Monty and I never really unpacked from the last flood so we’ve already finished gathering our own things, ready to go on out with the next caravan tomorrow. The field tools have all been gathered up and other people are taking care of them. I was left to my to devices before Monroe said you missed out on meals and to stop bothering her and Little Clarkey to make sure you got a bite to eat.” He popped another blue berry into his mouth. “So here I am.”

Bellamy merely harrumphed and continued to eat as Jasper continued to blather on about the preparations, gesturing wildly as he was wont to do. Admittedly, Bellamy had been hungry, even if his body only decided to make him aware of it now that there was food in front of him. He knew he should take extra enjoyment of the fresh fruit since they didn’t know how long the siege was going to last and they wouldn’t be able to send out gatherers while the threat of the Ice People loomed. Although maybe if they were familiar enough with the reaper tunnels they could send out some gatherers with some hunters to guard them and leave and come back with food without the invading Grounders even knowing. That would be nice but he didn’t think they had the tunnels that well mapped out yet and he didn’t want to risk drawing their attention to the mountain’s points of weakness if they could help it.

As soon as he finished eating, Jasper let him go free after swearing that he would come back for a bite to eat after the first caravan left and Bellamy made his way back to Raven’s workspace. Monty had made more progress than he would have in that hour and to help speed the pace he continued packing the items under Monty’s direction. Between the three of them, they managed to get all of Raven’s things in labeled boxes and up onto the wagons a little ahead of schedule. The caravan was in fine shape to move out on time, laden with not only Raven’s things but with most of the inessential supplies and families who were able to fully pack. There was also a good number of healing warriors who attached themselves to the contingent, led by Detta. 

He was not surprised to see that none of his 23 were leaving yet, although he knew that they were probably easily ready to go. He knew they’d try to stay away from Mount Weather as long as they could. When he came across them throughout the day, they each had an acceptable reason as to why they couldn’t be on this first caravan. “We need to see to today’s catch,” said Harper. “There’s still last minute work in the fields to be done,” said Monty. “Over my dead body,” said Monroe.

The next day the migration continued and by the time the sun hung in the middle of the sky the rest of the camp moved out, leaving just the bare bones of the now skeletal Camp Jaha behind them. There were few tears shed as the sentiment that they’d return sooner or later was prevalent. No one could break into Mount Weather so the Ice People would either tire of the siege or be swept off the green earth by reinforcements sent by the Heda (many hoped that the reinforcements would be led by the Wanheda, either to catch up with the woman they once knew or to see the now legendary figure. This had been her home territory, after all, and surely such an insult as an invasion would not be tolerated). 

About an hour out from the mountain a portion of the caravan broke off. A handful of the Trigedakru, the majority of the 23, and some of the wounded-warriors-turned-hunters continued further up the mountain, made camp and started planning strategy, mainly led by Enree who knew the tactics of the Ice People from previously facing them in battle. They would remain in the forest as long as possible, retreating to Mount Weather only when the Azgeda actually made their presence known and became problematic, maybe taking out a few of their warriors on the way and hopefully bringing in more solid information about the attackers. 

The higher elevation gave them a good view of the territory below and that night they could make out the incoming army due to the light from the many campfires that lit up the forest.

“They’re not even bothering to hide,” Harper said with a sniff. A group of them were gathered on an outlook munching on dried jerky under the light of only the moon and night sky above them.

“They’re not used to the forests, the sound of the animals scare them,” said Lateesh. She gave Bellamy a look. “We could use that to our advantage. Strike them now, during the night. They won’t even know what hit them.”

He gave her a crooked grin. “Where do you think Jandee and his friends went?”

Monroe looked up. “How come we didn’t get to join?” she complained.

“They grew up on this land, they know it like the back of their hands, even in the dark,” Bellamy explained. “Besides, if something happens we still need our hunters.”

She accepted this but still scowled at him. “Worry-wort.”

The next day they kept careful watch on the approaching army. It was difficult to track their progression through the trees in the daylight, even with binoculars. The hunters had split into four smaller groups and set out, since bringing in more food was a major purpose for them remaining above ground. Each group contained a person with a comlink to keep in touch with the main camp so they could be warned when the Ice People got too close and it was time to retreat and rejoin the rest of their people. Bellamy joined one of the hunting parties as the com person. It had been a while since he last went hunting and figured now would be a good time to re-sharpen his skills before they got even duller during the siege. 

It was a breath of fresh air, stalking through the undergrowth, following the lead of Kis up the mountain. They managed to pick up tracks of what they were certain was a large stag that’d bring in a decent amount of meat. The slight threat of running into Azgeda scouts kept a slight thrill of adrenaline coursing through his veins, although not nearly as much as when he led hunting parties after they first crash-landed and they had to be on the lookout for the Trikru.

The comlink kept buzzing, suffering from too much interference, probably due to whatever transmissions the Maunde had left running. The other members of the party kept throwing dark looks at Bellamy whenever the static was particularly loud, so when signs showed that they were catching up to their quarry, Bellamy went ahead and switched the comlink off so it wouldn’t warn the deer of their approach.  A good ways from where they had made camp the hunters caught sight of a stag. It was a giant one with a huge rack that they’d have to be careful with or risk being gutted themselves so they quietly surrounded it while it was munching on the grass. At a signal from Kis, they began the attack. It was short but bloody. The hide was too thick for darts, which just bounced off after merely nicking it, so they had to go in for close combat with spears. Lateesh and Bellamy were at its head, staying light on their feet and darting out of the way of the sharp antlers, keeping it busy with the threat of their spears while the others went in for the heart. Kis made the final blow and the lifeblood of the creature spurted out. The stag thrashed. Bellamy wasn’t quick enough to dodge back out of the way with the others. He felt a spike of pain as he was violently thrown backwards. He stayed on the ground for a moment, the air knocked out of him. When he struggled back to his feet, the animal was heaving its last breaths. Kis took stock of the kru. Most of them had blood on them but little of it was theirs. Only Bellamy and Corda were noticeably injured, her limping after her foot had been trod on by the beast, and a shallow gash across his chest. He was disappointed with himself; if he was in charge, he wouldn’t let him join another hunting party if he could help it. It was a careless mistake and every body was necessary for the running of the Camp. He was lucky the cut was shallow; he could’ve been speared by the bony protrusion. As it was, he got a pat on the back by the others as they started in on field dressing.

He tried to turn the comlink back on only for it to not make any noise. The interference was gone but so was all other trace of it working. Bellamy tried to call base camp but seemed unable to get through. After alerting Kis of the new development, it was decided to go ahead and start to head back to camp with their kill rather than the original plan of splitting up, with half of the group carrying home the deer and the other half continuing on, an unwise course of action without some way to communicate.

Even with all eight of them, lugging the stag was slow going. It was nearing nightfall when they reached the vicinity of camp. Talking had died down and the hunters started feeling on edge. Something was wrong. Kis signalled for stealth mode and they came to a halt. The skin on the back of Bellamy’s neck prickled and he tried to figure out what sixth sense it was that had alarm bells ringing in their heads. Wood smoke. He could smell smoke. That wasn’t right. They weren’t setting fires in order to stay under wraps. Drying the meat was going to take place at Mount Weather. Kis threw him a nod and he tried the comlink again. He shook his head. Nothing. It was dead. They backtracked their steps and moved further up the mountain to set up a make-shift camp. It was only after several miles that they started talking again, although it was still at a hushed volume. After finding a place to settle, Corda and Kael took care of the deer, working on getting it hung up in the trees to keep the wildlife from bothering it during the night. The others gathered to discuss what to do next. It was an unspoken consensus that their base camp had been taken over by the Azgeda, who had moved far more quickly than expected. With the comlink down, there was no way to tell whether the others had gotten out in time or if they had been caught by surprise and butched other than sending some scouts. 

“We need to find out what happened,” Bellamy said. “Our people could be out there.”

“No, the people we need to care about are here and in the mountain,” said Kis. “We need to join them there.”

“We don’t know how far the Azgedakru have spread, it may not be possible to get to the mountain,” he pointed out.

Kis snorted. “You broke in there once. You can do it again.”

Bellamy had to acknowledge the truth behind this. “Before we go looking for back doors, we need to check on the front door. We’ll be more useful to everyone if we have actual information.”

“The mountain has its eyes, it sees more than we do. The dead are no use to anyone.” Again, point to Kis. Bellamy couldn’t state why he felt so frustrated at the thought of retreating when it made the most logical sense. “You’ll take us through the reaper tunnels.” He knew he could force the issue but that would be immature. He didn’t want to risk his people.

“At first light,” he agreed, acquiescing. 

They spent the night in the dark, sleeping in shifts, alternating between being on guard and being asleep. A few hours before dawn, they awoke to the sound of distant screaming. Seconds later, they were all armed.

“Jandee?” Lateesh suggested, breaking the silence, her voice sounding both hopeful and yet doubtful. No one replied, still listening to the shouts. It could have been their own people screaming. The Azgedakru could be torturing Trikru that they had caught. They could be trying to find out where everyone went, which mountain was Mount Weather, how many warriors there were, whether there more raiding parties, how many supplies they had, how to get in. Kael tossed his head. Bellamy knew he was itching to be part of the raiding party. He felt the same. Better to be doing something rather than retreating, rather than hiding, rather than cowering in the dark.

The sound traveled well in the forest, bouncing off the trees. To the inexperienced it could have sounded like it was coming from anywhere, from everywhere, but the party knew it was coming from the direction they had left behind them, at base camp. It seemed like hours before the noise died out but it was still dark. No one wanted to go back to sleep. Kis decided that it was a waste of time to stay if they weren’t going to rest and so they packed up what little they had set out. The stag was left hanging. There was no time to deal with it and it was looking unlikely they’d get it to the mountain where the meat would be useful. It would be a burden and slow them down unnecessarily at this point. It was slow going in the dark but better than the alternative of hanging around. They traveled around the mountain before heading down towards the closest tunnel since the main entrance was obviously out of the question with their base camp most likely lost to the Ice People.

The sun was starting to rise when they were getting close to the entrance of the reaper tunnel. Relief was short-lived however as the smell of smoke came drifting through the trees. After a brief conversation using only hand gestures, they continued further, staying low to the ground and proceeding with extreme caution, keeping close to the trees, weapons on hand. Their fears were proven honest as they came across a camp of foreign Grounders starting to wake up. Kael asked if they could make a quick strike but was shot down by Bellamy. Now wasn’t the time. They worked on trying to find their way around the camp but were frustrated as it stretched on. The Azgedakru were starting to stir too much and Kis called a retreat. 

“There are other tunnels?” Kis asked Bellamy once they regrouped.

“Yes, but I’m not familiar with them. We’d just as easily get lost as get in,” he replied. 

Kis scowled. “You get your wish. We stay under the sky for a few nights yet. We’ll go back up the maunde and make camp. Half will scout. Tonight, we raid.” 

The others let out a crow of approval and banged their weapons on the ground. “Jus drein jus daun! Jus drein jus daun!” 

 

The scouting expedition brought back news that indeed there was no easy way around or through the camp to get to the tunnel and that the Azgedakru was still moving. “They’re going in two directions. Half up the mountain and half down.” “Does this camp reach our base camp?” “Looks like, or nearly so.” “How do their supplies look?” “Not enough to last them long. If they set in for a siege they’ll have to rely on hunting.” “And our crops, dammit.” 

Six of them were allowed on the raiding party that night. The other four were to guard their things at their meager camp and to act as their cover if they were followed on their way back. Bellamy was one of the warriors on the raid. They slid through the night like spirits, easily finding the camp, which had been displaced several miles, slipping past the sleepy guards, whose throats they slit, a matter Bellamy found unpleasant but he had done worse things and he would do anything in the name of keeping his people safe. He had promised to take care of them and he may not have done a perfect job but by the stars he tried. Every death of one of the Ice People now meant fewer who would try to kill his people. Their object for this raid was the food stores, to destroy and steal. Bellamy’s stomach growled as they passed the campfires used for cooking; they had been living off of jerky and sprouts since leaving the caravan, and not even much of that since discovering they were cut off by the Azgeda coming ahead of schedule. 

They found the tent that was being used as a storehouse using observations from their scouts. There were a couple of warriors guarding its opening, sitting around a nearby fire that had some meat drying next to it. They circled around to come up from behind. Bellamy heard them chatting but couldn’t make out what they were saying, their language different from any Trigedasleng he knew. He was familiar with the tone of their voices: one anxious and worried, the other also obviously concerned but trying to cover it up with bravado for the sake of the other. He thought he heard them say the Wanheda’s name but it was hard to tell. Kis and Sami covered the strangers’ mouths and slit their throats and any words they had bled out with the rest of their life force. While Bellamy and Kael stood guard, the others snuck into the tent and stuffed their bags with food. Then they dragged in the bodies and set the whole thing ablaze, quickly scattering afterwards and making their way out of the camp, the sound of distressed shouts arising behind them as people grew aware of what was happening. 

Once free from the light of the campfires and the smell of smoke in the air, they split up even more to make their way back to camp, as to increase the difficulty for any pursuers if they were being followed. As their eyes readjusted to the darkness, they laughed and crowed and howled to their success. The sounds of their celebration echoed eerily off the trees, making it sound like there were more than twice as many of them all flying through the forest. The Azgedakru at their campfires shuddered at the inhuman noise.

The next night’s raid predictably didn’t go as smoothly. The camp had again moved, further down the mountain; soon they’d be right on top of the tunnel, if they weren’t already. (Bellamy hoped that the Mountain’s cameras caught the Northerner’s progress, that the people in Mount Weather collapsed the tunnel, that Monroe and Monty and Derek and Enree had made it underground before the Azgeda showed up because, with the way they were spreading out, there was little hope for not getting caught. He was amazed at the sheer number of warriors there were.) The Ice People were now on their guard, their sentries were alert and more numerous. The raiding party split up, part to act as a distraction, the rest to sneak in and damage the tent of cached weapons (quivers of arrows would make great torches). Lateesh blew poison darts at the guards and was then to lead the guards further info forest with Sami. It only took one to go down before the alarm was raised but instead of the nearby guards going to investigate, leaving an open space for the others to slip through, others were called forth from the campfires. Lateesh and Sami took down a couple more before having to melt back into the woods. Kael took out two with one carefully aimed spear before he too fled the charge of Northerners, who were then cut down by Bellamy and Kis before their eyes could properly adjust to the darkness. The objective was abandoned after a few more similar attempts at various points around the edge of the camp as they sought a weak point. It was no good. At Kis’s signal, they retreated back to camp. 

On his own, Bellamy had to take care of two Azgedakru on his tail. He tripped them up at a rough patch of ground covered in knotted roots and doubled-back on them. He speared one through the chest but was unable to pull his weapon back out before the other was on top of him, chopping at him with a sharpened club. He dodged and drew two of his knives, trying to dance backwards as to have enough room to throw but the Grounder wouldn’t let him, pressing forward to keep the distance closed. With that strategy failing, he pulled a sudden reverse, lunging forward and up and under the arms as if going in for a hug, catching his opponent off-guard. He thrust his knives upward, one into his gut and other into his armpit, which instantly let loose of the heavy club. The Grounder headbutted him hard enough that he saw stars and brought him down in his embrace as he collapsed to the ground. Discombobulated, it took Bellamy a moment to wriggle free enough to bring up an arm and slash the man’s throat. He laid there a moment to catch his breath while the other breathed his last before rolling away. After struggling to his feet, he gathered and cleaned his weapons, wishing that he could clean himself as easily of all the blood. 

The others were in similar shape when they regrouped back at camp. Dirty and covered in blood, some of which was their own, they collapsed on the ground exhausted. Corda dished them out food from the rations they had stolen the previous night: more jerky but also some delicious, refreshing, juicy fruit. It was reinvigorating, enough so that they stayed up to sunrise discussing strategy. There was no point in making another attack the next night with the Azgedakru on their guard and with their own people in bad shape (between the ten of them there were sixteen working legs and twelve fully functional arms), but the Ice People seemed to be spreading out, which meant that their guards would be more vulnerable, perfect targets to pick off. Kis decided the best use of their time would be to split up and scout out the actual extent of the Northerner’s forces. Corda, Lateesh and Sami, the three who were most wounded in one way or another, would move the camp to a nearby outcropping and monitor progress from there while trying to stay out of sight (it was necessary to move the camp anyways; if they didn’t, the invaders would be on top of them within a day or so). The others split into three groups, one to head to the top of the mountain and the other two to head down it, one east and one west, to track the spread. They would return in two sunrises to report back their findings. 

Bellamy was paired with Kael to go east. Kael was a young Trikrew gona, whose beard was plaited up his sideburns and back into his mane, a look Bellamy thought was fairly ridiculous. Admittedly, his own partial scruff at this point was not his most flattering look either, and he could have done with a trim. War was not a time for vanity and at least Kael’s braiding kept his hair out of his way. 

Since Bellamy had the most familiarity with the land, as the Grounders hadn’t dare venture this close to the mountain while the Maunon were a threat under penalty of death, Kael followed his lead without complaint. They kept low during the day, staying out of sight of the Azgeda but staying close enough to hear the camp’s commotion and within the whiff of smoke. Every now and then they would dart closer to take stock of the enemy force. It seemed endless. The first night they spent up in the trees: uncomfortable but safe with a good vantage point. During that second day Bellamy realized that although the force was slowly spreading upwards, the thinning out of the Ice People meant that either many warriors were staying at their original camps or they were also moving down the mountain also. He didn’t like the implications. They lapped themselves before hitting the end of the Azgeda camp. Meaning there was no end. They were ringed in. Bellamy hoped the reason they didn’t run into the partnership that was traveling West was because both pairs were too stealthy to be picked out of the forest rather than because of an encounter gone bad. After he was sure they had gone past where they had started, noting with dismay the encroachment of the Northerners, he led the two of them back to their own camp. They reached the outcropping just as night was falling so Kael let out the coded bird call to let the others know that they were approaching so that they wouldn’t get a fairly paranoid spear to the ribs. Lateesh welcomed them with open arms. Admittedly, those arms were getting more difficult to see as the moon was waning in the night sky. Kael went ahead and shimmied up a tree for the night but after observing the Azgedakru’s firelights far enough below and away Bellamy felt comfortable enough just spreading out on the rocks for the night. He was willing to risk being stepped on during the night; he hated sleeping in trees, always terrified he’d roll over in his sleep and plunge from the limb to the ground and his death below, and his back always ached afterwards (it made him feel far too old). As it was, he slept lightly enough that when the other groups made it back to camp, he awoke. Once he determined that it they were friend, not foe, he almost immediately fell back asleep.

When the sun rose, they gathered together on the ground and took stock. The pair who headed west had run into trouble; they had stumbled into a hunting party and had to flee up the mountain when they realized they were not only outnumbered but also out-skilled. Luckily they were not badly hurt but had merely been scraped up and nothing more had been bruised than their pride. They corroborated that the Azgedakru did indeed encircle the mountain. There was no way for them to join their friends within the confining safety of Mount Weather. Those who remained reported that the enemy force, while spreading both up and down the mountain, seemed to be focusing most of their forces on the downward direction. It was a reasonable conclusion that they were searching for a weak spot in the mountain, a way in. There was no doubt that they’d find the tunnels. The group that went to the mountain’s peak also brought back bad news. A party of the Ice People had made their way up there and destroyed the satellites and tubes that were up there and stuffed dirt and leaves in the more obvious air pipes for blockage. 

“There goes our chance at communicating,” muttered Lateesh. Bellamy had to agree that the situation was not looking pleasant. 

Corda brought up the distant spots of firelight she saw while on watch. “There’s another force moving this direction. Reinforcements. No way to tell yet which side.” Even more Azgedakru would definitely not be good. 

“Eta?” Kis asked.

“Should be here by the new moon at the latest. After tonight, we should be able to form a better estimate.”

“Good.” The darkness would mean the forces would have to light fires to see which meant it’d be easier to tell whether the two forces were friendly or at odds. An enemy camp on fire or the burnt remains of such looked far different than mere additional campfires. And yet that was still so much time to try to hold out. They were running low on water and would soon eat up all the rations they had stolen, which meant they’d have to go hunting, which was was all very well and good except that they’d have to cook the meat, which meant building a fire, which meant potentially giving away their location to the Azgeda. If it had been later in the season then there’d be more food that to forage. Admittedly, it would also be colder during the nights and they’d have to light a fire for warmth. Bellamy sighed. There were no easy wins in the struggle for survival.

But if they did survive until the reinforcements came, and if they  _ were  _ reinforcements for the southerners, well… his heart soared at the thought. That could possibly be worth surviving for. He knew he was being too optimistic, he was raising his hopes too high. The most he could hope for were reinforcements that would decimate the Ice People so his people could leave the mountain and go back to their lives in the open air. The Commander was a cold, masterful strategician. She would carefully have balanced the advantages of having leaders who knew the terrain and were invested in the outcome with the disadvantage of having leaders who could possibly be  _ too  _ emotionally involved and thus make poor decisions. So he knew he shouldn’t expect anything more than the best case scenario of survival (and shouldn’t that be enough? for his people to live? to survive himself?) but it was hard to keep his excitement smothered. He first had to get through this alive and that was more than enough to keep him busy. The new moon was still days out.

As advantageous as their current camp was, they decided to move on out, the lack of water supply outweighing the view. There was a steady stream on the far side of the mountain they headed to instead. Corda located an even better location for their camp, a rocky area with a slight precipice above the stream, an ideal place to hide out until the reinforcements came. Not that hiding was all that they would do. None of them were the sort to lie around and have others do their work. With the spread of the Azgedakru downward, the guards on their side of the mountain would be easy targets and on this side of the mountain they hadn’t yet been hit, so they may not be as on guard as their previous marks. While half of the kru set up camp in the rocks and refreshed what supplies they could, the others made a scouting expedition to the enemy lines to familiarize themselves with the terrain before their planner early morning attack before the sun rose, half way through the Northerners’ third watch, when there was the highest chance of drowsy guards. 

That night their raid was successful, the five of them bringing down seventeen Azgedakru before being forced to flee, their victorious crows echoing through the night even as they dodged arrows being shot at them. However, when they arrived back at their camp, it was while licking their wounds. In his haste Tanner had fallen the last several feet to the ground from his sniping cover position in a tree, managing to break a leg (luckily not his neck), and needed help climbing the rocks to reach their new camp. Corda, whose limp slowed her down, had also gotten an arrow through the shoulder. Kael, Bellamy, and Kis all sustained some light wounds from their close combat. They spent the day recovering while the five who had slept and kept guard at camp now went hunting and gathering in order to attempt to refresh their stocks.

Bellamy couldn’t believe that it had only been a week since they left Camp Jaha. This pattern of fighting and running and recovering and attacking seemed too natural, too infinite for him to only have fallen into it a week ago. It seemed like months. He remembered how easily it had been to fall into the norm of leadership and survival those years ago with Clarke when they first landed. (Well, not with Clarke right when they landed. It took them time to mesh. But, oh, when they did, what a team they had made! They had been able to withstand anything Earth threw at them.) 

The next day things started out as they had been. Quiet. Corda’s shoulder was starting to ooze, which was worrisome. They didn’t have a healer but when the party split up to scout and hunt and guard, Kis went to look for some plants to help combat infection. It frustrated Bellamy to no end that just beneath them within Mount Weather was a med bay and enough medicine and technology to heal Corda in no time. As it was, he could do nothing but try to keep the wound clean and her comfortable and distracted from the pain, which is how he found himself lying in the warm sun on the rock face next to her and Tanner, whose leg was in a splint, watching the clouds as they came up with shapes and stories for them.

“That looks like one of the Sea People’s ships. See the sails?”

“Sails? Nonsense. Those are ears. That’s obviously a jaklabbit.”

“What’s a jaklabbit?” Tanner asked.

Corda snorted. “What’s a jaklabbit?” she repeated mockingly. “They made stew of one just last week.”

“I’ve eaten a lot of things within the past week.” Well, not entirely true. Mostly jerky. But back before news of the invasion came, he ate a lot.

“Long, tall ears sitting on top of its head, short stubby tail. Awkward jump of a gait. Eyes on either side of its rounded head.” She gestured, trying to explain the creature, finally waving a hand back at the cloud floating away. “Looks somewhat like that.”

“Do you mean… a rabbit?” Tanner asked.

“Yes!” she sounded relieved. “But bigger, older. Rabbits are tiny yonguns to jaklabbits. How do you know the word for rabbit but not know jaklabbits.” The Grounder shook her head exasperatedly.

“It reminds me of a satellite,” Bellamy said as the cloud drifted away. At Corda’s questioning glance, he tried to explain the Skaikru term. “It’s like a… big metal thing in space with sails, like a ship. Before the nuclear war, people used them to send and gather information and images from around the world. They’d reflect signals that were sent to them. You can see them from here, but they just look like brighter stars. Back when we lived in the sky, sometimes they’d fly past. We actually still used them to gain information about Earth, such as the weather.”

“Why would you want to know our weather? You weren’t in the rain.”

Bellamy shrugged. “I don’t believe we monitored it frequently. It was more just a checkup to see if it was survivable.”

“And yet we didn’t know there were people down here.” Tanner shook his head. “Technology, eh? Always there to disappoint you.” He turned his attention back to the sky. “That one looks like a hound.”

“Sha, I can see a barker out of that,” Corda said after a moment. “But you know what it looks even more like? The Lady in NyKapa. That tail? It’s her outstretched arm with the flame.”

Bellamy had heard of NyKapa, both from stories from other Grounders and from history lessons on the Arc. Before the War it had been one of the largest cities in the country and was known as New York City. It was further North but not far enough to be in the territory of the Ice People. But he hadn’t heard about the Lady. “Who?”

“The Green Lady.” At the look of incomprehension on the other two’s faces, she shook her head at the ignorance of the Sky People. “She’s in the bay, standing on the water. Before the War she watched over the City but then they joined in the War and she turned her back on them, unable to look over them any longer. When they were hit with a blast, she started to cry but she could not look back. She now guards them, watching over the sea. She can’t bring herself to look back at her beloved people but it’s said that if warships come from the East, she’ll light the torch she holds in one outstretched arm, letting the people of NyKapa know, and come off her pedestal to fight for them. In her other hand she holds a book, said to be the list of crimes committed by the people of NyKapa that she’s taken upon her. She still cries. I’ve seen her. Black tear marks are stained under her eyes.”

“When were you there?” Tanner asked.

“I was in the Wanheda’s contingent when the Heda asked her to go rally the Bigapkru against the Azgeda,” Corda replied. “They took us to see the Lady after she won them over.”

“She’s a good diplomat,” Bellamy said. “She could be very convincing.”

“It took a while to convince them. She had to earn their respect first by besting their heda Rico. He knew better to face her in open combat, she’s not known as Wanheda for nothing, after all. So they competed in a Climb.” She let out a laugh. “It was a sight to behold. You’d never guess she had never used grappling hooks before. And she didn’t scramble, like other Trigedakru I’ve seen climbing towers. She swung. She was as graceful as ever. It was an honor to watch. Both masters. She destroyed Rico, reaching the top long before him. He had to accept the loss and deferred to her leadership, agreeing to rejoin the Alliance. A good thing too, because not too many moons afterwards the Azgeda decided NyKapa would make a good target.” Corda snorted. “They never got a foothold.”

Suddenly they heard Kael’s panicked shouts as he abandoned his guard post. “Fog! The Maunde’s poison breath! It’s coming!” Corda’s face drained of color and Bellamy sat up quickly, mind racing. They didn’t have any protection. They couldn’t outrun the acid fog and where would they run to? The Azgedakru had them trapped. There were no tunnels they could seek shelter in this high up the mountain. The stream wasn’t nearly deep enough for them to dive into and even if they could, they wouldn’t be able to hold their breaths for long enough. He tried to remember how the thick fog rolled. It’d be traveling down the mountain. Their only hope was to scramble down the cliff-face, hugging the wall and hoping that the fog merely ran off and over like a waterfall rather than flowing down and enveloping everything.

“Come on, we’ve got to go,” Bellamy said roughly, helping Corda and Tanner up. “Down the rocks. Quickly.” Kael nimbly scrabbled down the steep rocks but the other two weren’t having as easy a go of it. Bellamy and Kael ended up passing the other two between them. They found a concave indentation in the rocks. Not enough to be called a cave but maybe enough to shelter them from the fog, which was almost upon them, Bellamy could smell its sulfurous odor.

“Get in! Get in!” Tanner shouted, pressing forward as they all tried to cram in. But they couldn’t all fit. The space just wasn’t big enough.

“I’ll find another space,” Bellamy said, “Just stay here, it’ll be alright.” He backed up, moving to leave.

Corda gripped his arm, pulling him back and swinging herself to take his place. “Ai gonplei ste odon,” she told him with a bitter smile. “May we meet again.” 

“Corda, no!” But she shoved him into the cave and took a couple steps backwards, out into the sun. Soon the sight of her was enveloped in a cloud of greenish-yellow fog drifting downwards from the mountain slope. 

Bellamy winced as he heard her groan in pain, watching as what little of her he could see was erupting in boils. The three of them hugged themselves as close to the wall as they could, their limbs overlapping, as if by sheer force of will they could become one with the earth around them. Tanner cried out in pain as the fog dripped down the precipice onto his shoulder, Kael stifled a pained whimper. Bellamy tried to shove them both further back, tried to shield them, had to turn around to face the interior to keep his eyes safe, burying his face in Kael’s back, cursing as his own body came into contact with the acid-laced air. They heard a scream that fell downwards: Corda. She must’ve lost her footing. The men coughed, tried not to breathe, tried not to make sound as if the fog would go away if it couldn’t hear them. 

Moments stretched into eternity but finally the fog stopped drifting downward. It had gone past. They were safe. They were alive. They hurt and gasped at the now-clean air. Bellamy inspected the other two as they left the overhang and insisted they travel down to the water to wash blistered skin. On their way they passed Corda’s limp, disfigured corpse and took a moment to close her sightless eyes and stack a pile of rocks by her head, which would act as a grave marker until they could come back to bury her, which Bellamy planned on doing after he took care of the his two living charges. At the stream they bathed and attempted to wash their clothes. Bellamy made a note that they should be careful of drinking downstream for a while, as ingesting the polluted water did not sound like a good idea. It was a pity it was only a stream; the water wasn’t as fast moving nor was there enough water for them to completely immerse themselves so they helped each other rinse hard to reach areas. All three had solid areas of blisters: Tanner’s shoulder, Kael’s right side, Bellamy’s back and arms. If only they had medicine, salves, anything to help them. Kis had some knowledge of herblore, hence why Kis wasn’t with them. Kis may never be with them again. The other members of the group could very likely be as dead as Corda.

Bellamy was angry. More than that, he was furious. In the last invasion of Mount Weather, he had destroyed the machines that ran the acid fog. It had obviously been repaired. And no one had told him. He had not been informed. The Arc had done this behind his back. He was on the Council, damn it! Why had he not been made aware of the repair of the weapon?  _ Maybe _ , the logical side of him suggested,  _ Maybe Raven fixed it within the past week _ . The Mountain was under attack, after all, and it was one of the few offenses they could enact without leaving the safety of the underground bunker. But he knew that they knew they still had people on the outside! Bellamy and Kis and Corda and the others! Without cover! How could they do this to them? For the greater good. You couldn’t save everyone. He wanted to sneer. But the fact that they had done it, had left them to die, well…. surely that meant they were in desperate straits themselves. He knew the Azgedakru’s movements were purposeful and that they must have found at least one of the reaper tunnels. They must have also found some of the others. Mount Weather must be feeling very threatened. He wondered if the Ice People had broken through somewhere. 

But the fog would have wiped a good many of them out. They wouldn’t have had enough time to all seek shelter in whatever tunnels hadn’t been collapsed. The airborne acid was an effective method for mass killings. The Northern force would be weakened. This was the chance Bellamy had to get through, get his people, what were left, down the mountain into safer territory, across the river, outside of the battlegrounds. Only if they left now, before the Ice People recovered from the attack. But he couldn’t do that. Tanner was in no shape to make a run for it. Kael and Bellamy could carry him but then they wouldn’t be able to carry anything else, like their weapons. So that was out of the question. Besides, he couldn’t leave without at least waiting for the others at camp. That’s where the survivors of the party would expect to regroup. He had to give them the chance to show up before abandoning them and fleeing the mountain. No. He’d stand his ground. Reinforcements would arrive soon. They could last. They  _ would  _ last. He would see to it. He had helped his people survive so many things, what was another enemy force and friendly fire? He spun around, middle fingers displayed, in case he was in view of any of Mount Weather’s cameras. Fuck them. The Arc had never truly been on their side, on his side. Whenever a roadblock came up, they were usually to blame. He could get his people through alive without their help. He would even get his people through alive if they too decided to actively try to kill them. The odds had never been on his side and look how far he had gotten. He had become a Councilor, leader of the outsiders, adopted father to an amazing child.

Little C. That’s right. his anger fizzled out. Mount Weather was not their enemy this time around. The fog was just friendly fire. He had people in there too. His  _ friends _ were in there. Miller and Raven and Jasper. Little C. Stars above, he hoped Monroe had managed to get inside, that Clarkey had her mother with her within the cold walls. Because if not… no. Monroe was inside and he’d survive this. She would not be alone. He had to get back to her.

By the time Bellamy got Kael and Tanner back up to the precipice where there camp was, his adrenaline was leaching out of him, leaving him exhausted and aching. He became aware of the blisters on his hands and back. Each time his wet shirt brushed his skin, it felt on fire. He tried to ignore it but it reached the point where he had to ask Kael to stand watch while he laid on his stomach, nude on the rocks, unable to pay attention to anything but trying to muffle the pain and his frustration, clothes spread out to finish drying next to him. He could protect no one in this state. He hated feeling helpless and useless. He blacked out for a while, sleep a welcome numbing balm. When he came to, he was still spread out on the ground. Kael was sitting next to him and Tanner was leaning against a nearby tree, keeping watch in the growing dark.

“No sign of the others,” Kael said when Bellamy’s waking groan alerted him to his being newly conscious. The words  _ they’re probably dead _ went unsaid but hung in the air like space detritus. “The Azgeda’s fires have diminished.” There were less than half of the campfires down below as there had been the night previous. “The reinforcements will be here soon.” Kael had always been a man of few words but he seemed even more reluctant to speak. Still, he had told Bellamy all he needed to know. 

“We’re going to wait here until midday tomorrow for the others,” Bellamy declared, pulling his clothes back on. “Then we’re leaving. We’ll join the reinforcements when they arrive.” The arriving force had to be theirs. He refused to accept even the possibility that there were more Ice People marching to destroy them. There may be a destroyer among that force, but it would be theirs. Since he had slept the afternoon away, he took the night shift of guarding camp. He paced, his mind whirling over plans and strategies, and watched the flickering lights spread out below. There was a great swath of darkness to the east down the mountain. That patch of Azgedakru must have been hit hard by the fog. That would be the best place to try to break through their lines.

The next morning he had Kael go ahead and scout out the way, pointing out a location for a meeting place. When the sun had risen to its highest point in the sky, Bellamy and Tanner would go to meet him with whomever else had returned to the camp. After Kael left, Bellamy went into the forest to cut a few skinny tree limbs into shape to act as crutches for Tanner, who stayed at camp watching over their things. He nearly tripped over Kis in the forest, who was laying on the ground, completely camouflaged under brown leaves. Dead?

“Kis?” he said, putting his fingers on the hunter’s neck (which was devoid of blistering, a good sign) to check for a pulse. Before he touched skin, Kis’ hand grabbed his and he found himself flipped on the ground. He let out a sharp bark of laughter, despite the flare of pain in his shoulders. “Not dead then. Where have you been?”

“Waiting for you,” Kis snapped, gesturing downwards. “Survived the Maunde’s breath in a tree but couldn’t get high enough.” Bellamy took a look over the Grounder and hissed at the sight of the hunter’s legs and feet: they were devoid of cloth but covered in a mixture of mud, dead leaves, and blood. The bottom of Kis’ feet were completely raw. “I walked back as far as I could before deciding to wait for one of you branwodas to find me.”

“You got pretty close. Guess that’s two pairs of crutches I need to make,” Bellamy remarked.

Kis sat up and whacked Bellamy with a stick lying nearby. “Already done. It’s how I made it this far. Now report, who’s back at camp?”

“Just Kael, Tanner, and I,” Bellamy replied, rubbing his head, still crouched down. “Corda didn’t make it and none of the others have regrouped yet. At noon we’re going to head down the mountain. It’s our best chance. The Azgeda was also hit pretty hard by the fog.”

Kis nodded and struggled to stand up, using the crutches as a brace, slapping away Bellamy’s hands when he tried to help. Even with the lowered defenses of the Ice People, Bellamy was unsure of how he’d manage to get two crippled warriors past their lines. Even with just Tanner it was going to be difficult, and his leg wasn’t nearly as bad off as Kis’ feet. If Tanner could manage on his own, and if Kael could run defense, and if Bellamy carried Kis, and if they were very, very lucky, then maybe they’d make it through. But what he’d give for another relatively full-bodied member of their party. (What he’d give for a defensible position, for an army of his own to lead, for there not to be the additional threat of friendly fire. If wishes were horses.)

Instead of voicing his concern, he asked about the mud-leaf mixture as he looked around for tree limbs to make into Tanner’s crutches. “I went for healing herbs. I come back with healing herbs. The leaf of greenspur mixed with mud made from the red clay smothers the fire and soothes the blisters.” Kis gave him a wry smile. “The other leaves were added just for the look.”

“Think you can mix up more of that?” Bellamy asked. He spied a low hanging branch that would do the job and took his knife to it. That would do.

Kis nodded. “I’ve got more greenspur in my pouch. If I remember right, there’s such clay as needed on the outskirt of the camp. We’ll have to refill our water before meeting Kael, but I should be able to at least make enough for you.” Kis gave him a look over, taking note of how stiffly he held his shoulders. For a brief moment Bellamy was reminded of his short time as a guard, standing at inspections.

“Then we’ll have enough for the other two. I got the brunt of it,” Bellamy said. “Now let’s get you back to camp.” After a minute or two of Kis hobbling along, Bellamy had enough of the hunter’s suffering and, despite much protest, swung the Grounder across his shoulders. It was an awkward position, to be sure, and Bellamy had to use the crutch as a staff to help bear the weight, but they did manage to get back to camp without too much trouble. When Tanner caught sight of them, he hobbled over to help Bellamy with Kis. He was relieved when the weight of the Grounder was removed, his back once again felt completely aflame. It was almost time to leave camp. “Anyone else show up?” he asked hopefully, despite not seeing the others. He reached back to touch his shoulders, wincing, his shirt feeling sticky and his hand coming away red and bloody.

Tanner shook his head, a frown upon his face. “No sign. Where’d you find Kis?”

“I’m right here,” Kis muttered from the spot on the ground they had put the hunter. “He found me by the forked tree west of camp.”

“That close?”

“That far. He shouldn’t have been wandering so far from camp,” Kis reprimanded. “If the Azgedakru came by, he wouldn’t have been able to hear your shouts of warning.”

Tanner snorted. “The Ice People are in just as bad shape as us, if not worse. I can’t imagine them getting their act together quick enough to try to come after us.”

“Your imagination is lacking then.” Kis punched Tanner’s bad leg. “Strengthen it, else you could get yourself killed.”

After gathering up all the supplies they could distribute among the three of them, they headed off to the meeting point. It was slow going, much slower than Bellamy planned on. Bellamy’s back couldn’t take carrying Kis any further so the hunter was supported by both him and Tanner, that way only killing one of his shoulders. He was frustrated by their slow pace, practically inching along down the mountain. Mid-day came and went and they hadn’t even gotten close to the appointed location. Tanner was starting to get anxious and so Bellamy had to withhold his own anxiety. He was relieved when Kael melted out of the shadows in front of them, a worried look on his face. It only took a moment for the Grounder to evaluate the situation and he immediately came over and picked Kis up. Bellamy let out a groan of relief as the burden was lifted. They didn’t stop to rest though, Kael a step ahead of Bellamy, leading the way.

“The line is broken ahead but for the dead,” Kael informed him. “The Azgedakru have retreated to the tunnels and are too wary to wander. We should be safe.” 

Bellamy was relieved to hear it. This was the sort of lucky break they could use. He tossed around the idea of spending the night in the ruins of the Ice People’s tents or at least stopping to pillage their rations. “Estimated damage?”

“High. They were unprepared. Dead scatter the ground.” Kael wrinkled his nose. “There’s a thick sheet of flies.”

They’d continue on, then. He didn’t want to risk sickness or infection. And with Kael they were moving faster. Bellamy let them lapse into quiet, the only noise their hoarse breathing and the sound of nature surrounding them. Night started to fall before Tanner asked for a break. “I just– need a minute to breath. And some water.” Bellamy agreed, figuring that if they stopped now then they could continue on and make it through under the cover of darkness to the other side of the camp and down the mountain and in the line of movement of the reinforcements by morning. They stopped their progress. Kael broke out the rations for them to consume and Kis started mixing up the muddy salve. As Bellamy expected, it wasn’t enough for all of them, and he insisted that Tanner and Kael get treated first. The small portion left over was spread on Kis’ feet, which was were far more important in Bellamy’s eyesthan his own back.

After the quick respite, Bellamy had them soldier on. Darkness had enveloped them by the time they reached the outskirts of the ruins of the Azgeda’s camp. There was just a sliver of the moon left in the sky and clouds blocked out much of the stars, making the journey more difficult due to lack of sight. They stumbled forward in the darkness until they hit the remains of the Ice People. The stink of the dead hit them before they saw the site itself, and when they reached it they disrupted hoards of flies. Bellamy thought he was going to be sick, his stomach turning at the assault on his senses, but he managed to keep it together. Tanner was not so lucky and threw up the little dinner he had eaten, sending flies everywhere before they settled back down. Kael was right however; the camp was utterly deserted by the living. A blessing, since them limping straight through the middle of the abandoned camp was not a stealthy method of movement. Bellamy was tempted to light a torch so they could watch their steps and not trip over decaying bodies but there was no cover; they could see the light of campfires in the distance, if they lit a torch there was too high of a chance that the Azgedakru would notice and send someone to investigate and they were in shape to neither fight nor flee. The four of them were all on edge, Tanner still trying not to heave obviously. 

When they reached tree cover, on the other side of the camp, Bellamy allowed himself to breathe again. They had made it. It would be okay. After a short moment, he had them continue further down the mountain. When the sun was starting to rise, he acknowledged that they were all weary to the bone, unable to go much further. They used the last of their strength to get up into the trees so they could rest in safety. Bellamy was still tempted to stay on the ground; his dislike of sleeping on tree limbs combined with the lack of variety of positions he could lay and not stretch his aching back made the risk of getting caught sound worth it. But this was enemy territory now and he had to make sure that the rest of his party survived. He couldn’t do that if he was dead. So after passing up all the supplies, he too climbed up the trunk of a particularly tall and sturdy tree. Once he settled himself on a thick branch, his body gave up and he was asleep without a second thought.

Bellamy awoke to the sound of his stomach roaring and he groaned as he moved to sit up. His limbs felt as stiff as the steel walls of the Arc and he felt scabs on his back break open. He glanced around, taking stock of the others, draped across various nearby limbs. Kis still seemed out. Tanner was idly looking up at the sky, his legs swinging. Kael was the most put together sitting next to the supplies, eyes alert, scanning the ground, weapon and rope in hand. After a look showed them to be alone in the forest, Bellamy asked, “Have you been on guard duty the whole time?” He couldn’t believe he hadn’t taken care of figuring out shifts before passing out.

Kael shook his head and gestured over towards Tanner. “Kis. Tanner. Now me.” He shot Bellamy a smirk, looking up at him briefly before returning his gaze to the ground below. “Up just in time for your turn.” Three shifts? That matched the position of the mid-afternoon sun.

“We need to continue on,” Bellamy said. “There’s a bunker ahead that I want to reach before dark. We should be safe there.” Until he figured out what to do next. While the bunker would be safe, it wouldn’t take long for them to starve if they holed up there, even if they stretched out the few rations they had. But it’d be a good place to recoup. “Any movement below?”

Kael shook his head and dug in a pack one handed and threw a chunk of bread at Bellamy without looking at him. “Klir.”

“Good.” Bellamy was was thankful for the Grounder’s good aim and that he was able to catch the bread without losing his balance. “We’ll let Kis rest a bit longer and then head off.” Kael nodded. “Hear that, Tanner?” 

“Sure thing, boss!”

Bellamy rolled his eyes at the kid’s pep and dug into his breakfast. Lunch. Early dinner? Whatever meal this should be. Stars above, what he’d give to go back to having three proper meals a day. The reinforcements should arrive soon. They’d wipe out the Ice People and they could all go back to their normal lives. Or as normal as it could get, living on the ground. The new normal. It was better than the life he led on the Arc, and he knew others could say the same. At least, those left of the 100 could. He wondered, briefly, again, if the kids he hadn’t saved would have rather stayed on the Arc to be floated on their eighteenth birthdays, or if they were thankful for their brief time on Earth. He had to hope that it had been worth it. He felt a pang of old remorse at the thought of all those who didn’t get the chance to experience Earth because of the culling and his selfish, thoughtless actions when he was younger. And then there were the Mountain Men. All those children would never experience the outside. All the Grounders he had killed… he had too much blood on his hands. And he was in the middle of another war. There would only be more blood. He sighed, having lost his appetite but forcing himself to finish the food. They didn’t have any to waste and his body did need whatever fuel he could provide. He finished it off and licked the crumbs from his fingers. 

He woke Kis up a few minutes later and they started the tedious process of getting down the tree as painlessly as possible. Bellamy went first and then Kael lowered the others, and the supplies, one at a time with the rope. Then the rope was tossed down and Kael climbed the tree on his own and shouldered Kis as Bellamy and Tanner distributed the packs between the two of them. They were off. Slowly. Bellamy hated the snail-like progress, on constant high alert. Luckily the Azgedakru must have been still recovering themselves as their travel was mostly undisturbed. (There was one close call where they had to hide while a hunting party went running past, yowling and shouting, high energy warriors looking for something to kill, already on the trail of some poor creature soon to be cut down in the prime of its life. Better it than them, Bellamy figured.)

Relief spread through him as they reached the site of the bunker while it was still light out. Kis and Tanner stood guard outside the door while Bellamy and Kael did a quick sweep inside to make sure it was safe and undisturbed. Bellamy put the generator going and switched on the lights. It looked like no one had been there for months, at the very least. There was a solid layer of dust on everything. He let out a surprised laugh when he pulled off a cloth covering some boxes in the middle of the floor that he didn’t remember from the last time he checked in years ago. The wooden crates were full of supplies. “Jackpot!” he muttered. He stopped himself from going through them now. After confirming that they were indeed alone and safe, he called Tanner and Kis inside and shut the door, locking it firmly behind them. “Welcome to your new home,” he said, gesturing towards the enclosed space. “At least for a while. Kael, see to Kis. Tanner, help me take inventory. By the time the sun sets, I want to shut the lights off in here for the night.” He didn’t want to take the chance of any light leaking through and giving them away. They all needed to sleep anyways. The door to the bunker was such that if one didn’t already know it was there, it was near impossible to find. Its invisibility and strong locking mechanism made Bellamy feel comfortable enough to give everyone the chance to sleep tonight without setting up shifts for watch.

Taking stock of the supplies didn’t take as long as he thought it would. Mostly because Miller had left a written copy of an inventory inside the top box (he’d recognize the handwriting of his second anywhere). With the written list of all the boxes’ contents was a note from Miller, which read,  _ Bell - I assume you were just too busy to tell me about this place and meant to include it in your ‘trust no one, hoard supplies’ speech you gave us. Raven suggested it as a place for us to put our emergency storage. If you sneak my honey-roasted peanuts, I will consider that a declaration of war _ . Bellamy did remember that speech, although he was pretty sure it wasn’t nearly as paranoid as Miller made it out to sound. It was soon after they had defeated the Mountain Men and the 46 had made it back to camp. Thankfully, the inventory did check out with the contents of the box. The were crossed out dates in the top right corner of the first page, the most recent of which was from just a few months ago, implying that not only had Miller put together the supplies, but rotated the food items that could spoil. There was a neat line drawn through the entry for honey-roasted peanuts, a delicacy from Mount Weather’s crops. Bellamy reasoned that during one of the periods of hunger, maybe after the floods ruined a batch of crops or during one of the hard winters, his friend had given in and treated himself to the nuts he stored away.

Within the boxes was not only food, but also other emergency supplies such as radio components, clothes and blankets, and enough guns and ammo to arm fifteen. It was beyond him how Miller (and whomever had helped him, as this was not a single-person job) had been able to sneak these out right from under the nose of the Arc, who typically kept a close eye on their weapons. Bellamy was back in business. First things first. He distributed some of the new rations. Food other than jerky! His mouth watered at the thought and he, like the others, dug in voraciously. Between bites, they talked and he discovered that none of them had much skill with tech, although Tanner did remember some of his classes from school on the Arc. Bellamy put him in charge of trying to get a radio working so that they could communicate with Mount Weather. After dinner (or whatever mealtime it was, a clock on the wall read 8:56, so he felt comfortable enough calling it a late dinner), everyone was exhausted, bodies worn out. They all settled into the makeshift cots and Bellamy switched off the lights. 

Once again, as soon as his body was settled down, he was out. He almost felt nostalgic for those nights where he lay in bed staring at the ceiling (or the bottom of the bunk above him, or the tent roof or whatever it was) for hours; it had given him time to think things out (Octavia called it “obsessing,” but what did she know). Now he simply stared out into the darkness upon waking. He couldn’t tell who else was awake and the clock was out of his view without moving. There were no sounds of stirring, so the others were probably still resting themselves. Good. He shifted position slowly, trying to make his back more comfortable. He could feel the inflexible scabbing of his skin protesting, his nerves shooting flares of pain. He knew that he had dealt with worse before but that didn’t make it any easier to block out and focus on what needed doing. Resting. Recuperating. Getting that damn radio working so he could yell at whoever let loose the acid fog. And so he could see who else made it. Check in with Miller and Raven, see how Little C was doing. Plan strategy with the Mountain so they could help the Azgedakru make the decision to go back to their frozen wastelands in the North. Admittedly, it would be a while before Tanner and Kis would be healed enough to be useful in that respect (he should really give his back a break too) and the reinforcements should have arrived by then, but if the siege went on long enough they could still play a part.

Priorities: Radio. Recoup. Reinforcements; get information from Mount Weather where they were and what help his small party could offer them. Most of the warriors of the reinforcements would not be locals, although he could imagine that the leadership would be. Bellamy felt his insides tighten at the thought so he set that aside and let his thoughts move on. His companions knew the terrain very well at this point, they’d make good scouts at the very least. Once they could all walk. 

He found he had drifted off again since the next thing he knew, Tanner was sitting at the table with a lit candle, trying to figure out how to put the radio together. Kael was looking on, interested, while he was looking after his weapons. Bellamy sat up, groaning, and looked over to Kis, who seemed to still be asleep.

“Good afternoon, bossman,” Tanner said with a grin. “Can we turn on the lights now?” Bellamy grunted in the affirmative and Kael got up and found the switch. He had to blink back the sudden light. Tanner blew out the candle. “Didn’t want to light it but wanted to start work and needed to see.”

“Any luck?”

Tanner shook his head. “They couldn’t have just left us a damn radio, could they? Or even instructions. Instructions would be great.”

“It was probably expected that Raven or Monty would be around whenever we needed to use these supplies,” Bellamy hazarded. “But you can do this.”

“Yessir, It’ll just take a while.” He turned his focus back to the wires in front of him.

“How’s your arm, Kael?” Kael just gave him a nod, which Bellamy took to mean that it was doing better. He got up, limbs feeling stiff, and hobbled over to the boxes to pull out changes of clothes for everyone. He realized he probably should have done this last night before everyone got into bed. Better late than never though. He tossed a set of clothes at both Tanner and Kael and set one down next to Kis for later before stripping and getting into clean clothes himself. He looked down at where his old clothes now laid in a pile on the floor. He should get rid of them, they were torn and bloody on top of being dirty and just generally disgusting. But he was fond of that shirt; Octavia had saved up furs and traded for it, giving it to him for his birthday a couple years ago. He didn’t think there was any way to save it though, especially with their limited supply of water. He gathered it up with the rest of the discarded clothes and put it in a bag as trash.

It would be a lie to say that they spent the next few days exploring the bunker. It wasn’t big enough to take days to explore. They had it all mapped out within an hour. By the end of the first day, they knew it backwards and forwards and what was in every drawer. By the end of the third day, they were all getting restless and mean-tempered in the small space. None of them were good with enclosed areas. Bellamy kept them inside because until they got the radio working, they didn’t know what it was like up on the ground and whether there were more attacks of acid fog. Kis, still stuck on the bed, had begun to badger Tanner, who was the closest, sitting at the table. Tanner tried to focus on getting the radio working but was becoming increasingly snappy, which rubbed off on Kael, who then started puffing up and making threats. Bellamy was trying to keep everyone relatively calm and not strangle them all himself. He was amazed with his self-control. 

“There’s something poking into my back,” Kis complained. 

“We’re not here to fluff your pillows, your majesty,” Tanner spat back, sneering.

“I will not tolerate your tone! Kael, hand me a knife, and I’ll teach this branwoda goufa a lesson.”

“Don’t you dare, Kael,” Bellamy threatened. “There will be no bloodshed in here! Kis, just roll over. You’ll be fine.” The grounded hunter did so but continued to mutter every now and then until even Bellamy had had enough. “Fine. Sit up.” He went over and lifted the mattress, rummaging around underneath to see if there was a loose spring or some other actual reason for the discomfort rather than just restlessness and boredom. He was surprised when he found a book lodged within the springs. It must have been hidden under the mattress and then all the tossing and turning of Kis shifted it, causing it to fall between the slats, leaving a corner poking up. He removed it and let the mattress drop. “There. Now, shut up.” 

He moved back to what he had claimed as his seat, an area up against the wall that he had piled up his blanket and pillow for cushioning, and took a look at his discovery. It was a leather-bound book with no title on the front. As he flipped through it, he learned that it was a sketch-book, about two-thirds of the way filled. The style looked familiar, although that may have just been because it had been so long since he had last seen any. He knew Lincoln drew but kept his sketches private. (Bellamy also had no wish to accidentally come upon any questionable images of O, thank you very much, and so had never badgered Lincoln about it.) The images portrayed did look familiar though. There were a couple of the nearby monuments, one of Camp Jaha, a portrait of Lincoln, a sketch of people working in the fields where he was able to pick out the faces of Monty and Jasper and Tesha. So it had to belong to someone he knew (since he knew everyone in the area. It was his business to know). Which made sense, since it was in the bunker after all. Did Miller draw? He had never seen him. But there were also unfamiliar images: a riverscape he had never seen before, landmarks he didn’t know, a crash site that he guessed was part of an Arc station that came down. So not one of his people. The order didn’t make sense though. If it belonged to a person that came down with the crashed station pictured, then how were there pictures of landscapes and Lincoln on the pages before it? Did the person just choose a page at random? But, no, the mass of blank pages in the back disproved that theory. He stopped flipping through it and went back to the beginning, figuring that he’d get a better idea if he went from the start to the finish. 

And he was right. There, on the first page, was scribbled  _ C. Griffin _ . His world froze. The sound of Kis and Tanner bickering faded, a dull ringing in his ears and the loud thump of his heart. No. This didn’t make sense. He knew she was an artist. But what was this doing here? It meant that she had to have come back. But he knew she didn’t come back. He would have known. He would have seen her. How could she come back and not come to him? Let him know that she was alive and doing well? Why would she force him to survive on second-hand stories? He flashed back to how the members of the other fallen stations of the Arc had been led to Camp Jaha by her, how she never got close to Camp. But Lincoln must have seen her. She had his picture here, in the sketch book, towards the end. How could Lincoln not tell him? He thought they were, well, okay, maybe not friends, but comrades. He would’ve told him if Octavia ever showed up. And she had come to see them working in the fields. That was long after she had left him. He felt anger flaring. How could she? Didn’t she know–?

The sound of Tanner shouting excitedly broke its way through the fog in Bellamy’s head. He heard a voice through crackling of static and put aside the book, dismissing his hurt and anger. The radio was up. It was time to get back to work.

“Receiving you loud and clear,” said the voice on the other end of the radio when Bellamy reached the table. “Report status. Over.”

“Four of us survived your acid fog attack but are recovering from the burns. Reached shelter. What’s the word on the reinforcements? Over.”

“Reinforcements arrived–” There was the sound of a scuffle over the airwaves and then there was a familiar voice. “Bellamy! Is that really you? You managed to keep your clumsy ass from getting killed?”

Bellamy took over the radio from Tanner, who made room for him at the table. “Hey there Raven. Yes, I made it. Who else was stuck outside the mountain? Over.”

“It was just your group. Everyone else got the warning over their comlinks and made it back in time.” He felt relief rush through him. Thank the stars above. There couldn’t have been better news. “I can’t  _ believe _ you busted yours.” After a brief moment the mocking left her voice and she asked hesitantly, “How bad was the fog? Over.”

“Pretty bad. We were separated at the time. I only know of the four of us surviving, and two are incapacitated. Have you seen any of the others on the cam? Over.”

“Sorry, Bell, that’s a negative.” Damn it. Not that he had held out much hope for Lateesh and the others but… damn. “Where are you? We lost track of you after you made it past the Ice People’s camp. Over.”

“Made it to Finn’s bunker to hunker down until we were in better shape. Did I hear right that the reinforcements made it? Over.”

“Yup. And they’ve made several passes at the Azgedakru. Surprised you haven’t seen them. They should be like right on top of you. Over.”

“I’ll make contact with them tomorrow then. Haven’t left the bunker yet but fresh air would be good. You’re not going to send out more acid fog once I come back above ground, are you? Over.”

“No, that was an act of desperation.” Her voice sounded apologetic. “They knew about the tunnels. Outlooks are better now that the tunnels are collapsed and reinforcements have come. Over.”

“Any orders from the Council? Over.”

“Probably, but who gives a damn about them? You stay alive. If you die before this is over, I’m going to kill you myself. Over.”

Bellamy snorted. “I’d love to see how that would work out. We’ll keep the radio on in case they decide to try to make use of us. How is everyone holding up in there? Over.”

Raven knew what he meant by ‘everyone’ and went off on how all the 23 were doing, which was about as well as could be expected, trapped underground in what had previously been their prison and unable to fight the invaders. “Bellamy, Clarke’s here. Over.” It took him a moment to realize that she wasn’t referring to Little C. Her tone had turned much too serious for that. “Bellamy, did you receive that? Over.” Tanner jabbed him in the side with an elbow and he realized a long moment had passed in silence. “Copy that. On the ground with the reinforcements, I take it? Is Octavia also back? Over.”

“Yes. I haven’t seen them in person, of course. But we’ve caught sight of them on the cams. We haven’t actually made contact with the reinforcements. They don’t seem to have a radio and all of our routes of escape are blocked off so we can’t send anyone out. The Council will probably have you act as a go-between, now that we’ve established communication. They’re looking… good. Over.”

“Noted. We’ll leave the radio on so you can contact us. Over and out.” Bellamy leaned back in his chair. “Well then,” he said, while his mind was playing a broken record of,  _ Fuck _ . “Good news all around. Sounds like we’ll be back home before you know it. Tanner, can you train Kis on the radio?” An assignment would help keep the hunter out of trouble. Tanner nodded. “Good. Kis, you’re on radio duty. We can rotate shifts at night but otherwise it’s yours. Kael, let me see that map you’ve been working on.” Kael had found a map in the boxes of supplies and had sketched out Azgeda fortifications as an overlay with a dull pencil that had been sitting on the counter. Probably one of Clarke’s, if he wanted to think about it, that she used in the sketchbook he had found. Kael unfolded the whole map instead of just the portion he was currently working on so that it took up the majority of the table. “Okay, so, last we noted, the bulk of the Azgeda were over here. They may have redistributed because of the fog into areas heavier with tunnelworks. The reinforcements were coming from this direction. Raven says they’re around here now and that they’ve already made several skirmishes, probably to take back the tunnels.” He pointed at the various points on the map and circled the two tunnels he thought were most likely to have been points of battle. “This will be where we’ll find the leaders of the reinforcements.”

“Clarke,” Tanner said.

“Probably. And whomever else Lexa sent. I don’t think the Heda has come herself, she’s needed too much by the front lines.” Bellamy wouldn’t have been too surprised if it came to light that Clarke had had to fight Lexa on the matter of sending troops to help them in the South. He didn’t think much of the cold-hearted leader of the Grounders. “Octavia will most likely be among the troops.” Time had passed, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she had risen ranks, his sister was one of the most determined people he knew, but he knew she’d be at a disadvantage, since he knew Grounders typically started training at a much younger age for battle than she did. That hadn’t stopped her from becoming Indra’s second, although that hadn’t been a position she had held for long. But whatever her rank, Bellamy knew Octavia would be in the contingent of the reinforcements and he was so looking forward to seeing her. He would easily admit how much he missed his baby sister.

They spent the rest of the evening planning a scouting expedition to locate the reinforcements. It was decided they would only send Bellamy out, initially, since Tanner and Kis were down for the count and they needed someone to look after them in case the scouting mission went south. Since the operation would include a large diplomatic component with making contact with whomever the contingent contained, Bellamy was the better option than Kael. 

That night before it was time for him to turn the lights out, he squirreled himself back in his spot to go back over the journal, starting from the beginning and slowly going through it, page by page. He was awed at the skill involved, that allowed him to recognize some of the characters portrayed. Because this sketchbook, this journal, was the story of her time away, at least to the point where she had left it behind. He wondered if she meant to leave it, or if she had been in a hurry to leave and forgot about it, and was just never able to come back for it. ( _ She always could come back _ , he thought in the back of his mind.) 

There was one sketch in particular that stopped him, a quarter of the way into the book. He stared at it for a long moment. The line-work was minimal, a few broad strokes of ink forming the incredible depth of field of the image. And yet, despite the absence of ink, he could tell exactly what the subject was: a man, back to the artist, leaning against a tree, hand braced against the trunk, surveying the land in front of him. He was pretty certain that it was meant to be him, based on the curly mop of hair, the style he had before she went off. Since then he had taken to keeping it shorter; it was easier to maintain and to keep out of his eyes. Lincoln had once tried to convince him to shave it all off but that hadn’t happened until he lost a bet. Otherwise he kept it just longer than the required length for male Arc guards (he still had a streak of rebelliousness in him, even after all these years). So this sketch had to have been done by memory. Had she missed him, then? Why had she drawn him facing away from the viewer? Could she not bear to look at him? His heart ached. Without thinking, he tore the picture out of the book and folded it, sliding it into a pocket, and continued turning pages until it was time to flip the switch.

He didn’t sleep well. Pent-up energy mixed with his restlessness to create a cocktail of insomnia. He stopped himself from twisting and turning in bed, knowing that it could keep the others up, and they all needed sleep to finish healing. Sleeping on his stomach did not help the situation but it seemed like his back was finally starting to heal and he didn’t want to bust open any of the scabbed over flesh. So he just laid there, head resting on his arms, looking out into the darkness, mind whirling, until sleep finally claimed him.

A few precious hours of rest and then it was time to wake up.

The others were also up and raring for him to go. Once he made contact, they too could leave the safety of the bunker, which they were all anxious to do. None of them were made for staying underground, especially in such an enclosed space. Bellamy was looking to getting out if only so he wouldn’t have to put up with all their bickering. After much discussion the previous night, they had decided he’d travel light. Either he’d find the contingent and send word back to them or he wouldn’t and would come back himself to try again the next day. He’d take a spear rather than one of the guns because they didn’t want him to cause offense (guns were a weapon of evil and cowardice, a maunon’s weapon), and a couple of knives. He got a couple slices of jerky but otherwise didn’t pack food; he’d either find the camp or scavenge if he got hungry enough. After he double-checked everything and Tanner radioed in to Mount Weather to alert them to their plan (they sent their approval but even if the Skaikru hadn’t, Bellamy would still have gone), it was time to go.

They opened the door and Bellamy took his first steps out into fresh air. Stars above, the air. He took a deep breath even as Kael closed the door soundly behind him. Just the air made him feel revitalized and alive. He couldn’t wait to get the others back out so they could be free and breathe this again with him. 

He took a few steps forward before his senses had him on alert. There was the smell of smoke. He drunk in the clearing around him and realized it looked disturbed. Azgedakru? He heard a noise behind him and he spun around, spear out in front of him defensively. A shadow solidified in front of him: a Grounder menacingly advancing.

“Hod up,” Bellamy started, “Ai laik-” He turned swiftly at a rustle and managed to raise his spear in time to block a strike from another Grounder that had managed to come up from behind. Okay then, not friendly. He pushed forward and jabbed his spear forward at his attacker before bringing it quickly back to knock the first person off his feet. More Grounders started melting out into the clearing from the nearby trees. Shit. He was in trouble now. He could maybe have taken on three Grounders on his own, even if the spear wasn’t his specialty, but more than that and he definitely needed back up. He whirled the spear around, trying to keep his opponents at a distance but he knew it would only buy him a few seconds at best, and jabbed it at the closest person. It got knocked it away. Bellamy used the momentum to continue the movement and knock another Grounder off their feet before reversing it. He stabbed forward again. A hit! This time he successfully wounded a man. He quickly twisted the spear and pulled it out but wasn’t quite fast enough; someone grabbed hold of the spear and yanked it out of his hands. He let go of it before it could pull him from his center of gravity and slid his knives into his hands. With this close proximity he could deal plenty of damage. His blades danced, slashing at anyone who dared get within arm distance. 

They backed off but he knew this didn’t mean safety. At least, not for him. He was surrounded, encircled by a ring of Grounders, who were now all jeering and crowing. A large man, whose mask covered his upper face but let his wild, bushy beard fly free, was left in the circle with Bellamy. He wielded a large club that made Bellamy wince just looking at it; he just knew he’d have broken ribs by the end of this encounter, if his head wasn’t bashed in. The Grounder swung it around lazily, as if it weighed nothing more than a baton. Bellamy dashed in and out, knives flashing, managing to get close enough to nick the giant on the arm before dashing away from the retaliatory strike, which just missed him. This man was fast. They danced liked this for a while, Bellamy unable to get close enough again to make him bleed, his opponent full of vitality. He, on the other hand, was quickly wearing out. Spending the last few days resting weakened his reflexes and his muscles were already starting to complain about the unexpected stress, on top of the pain of his back, whose scabs had torn open. He went on the defensive, trying to conserve energy until he saw an opening he could take. The Grounder herded him backwards and those who made up the circle prodded him forwards. Some with knives. One particularly strong shove knocked him off his feet and he turned his tumble into a roll, managing to get past his opponent but losing a knife. He knew he was wearing out; he could not last through this much longer. It was obvious the giant knew this. The swings were coming slower, allowing him to dodge. This was nothing but a game to them at this point. Everyone here knew how this would end. He was going to die ten feet away from the bunker and not even get to see his loved ones one last time when he was so damn close to the contingent of reinforcements. Fuck this. He let out a roar of rage, a fresh surge of adrenaline rushing his system, and he charged, dodging the suddenly quick club. He came up underneath the arm, and thrust upward. His knife did nothing but skid across the Grounder’s armor until it got caught in a chink of the next rubber layer. Shit. He felt the free arm come up against his neck and he was lifted off the ground. He clawed at the hairy skin, struggling to breath, thrashing, his body flaring pain at the bodily contact. Within a short time, Bellamy was lost to darkness.

Bellamy was surprised when he came to. He thought they would have killed him. Since awareness came with an overwhelming amount of pain that threatened to push him back into unconsciousness, he would honestly admit to preferring death at this point. The unknowable void would be far more desirable than his back on fire, his muscles aching, his throat burning each time he took a breath. When he dared to open his eyes, he discovered that he was blindfolded. But he could tell he was within a shelter, dimly lit, with no rotation of air. There was an opening, a line of light, with two darker blobs standing against it. Two guards at an opening flap to a tent? As if he could even try to escape. He shifted, to try to relieve the pressure on his back, and discovered that his movement was limited. He was bound to a large stake, some basic exploration proved, hands tied together on the far side of the pole behind him. And he was naked. Except for, yes, underclothes.

That he wasn’t dead yet easily led to the conclusion that they wanted him alive. He should’ve known better. Reviewing his last encounter, it seemed obvious. He had been prodded with knives but no one tried to actually slice him open. He had been played with. They had wanted him alive. For information. The Azgedakru would try to get information from him, about the reinforcements, about the tunnels, about the other weak points of the mountain. They would probably torture him. He may not be dead yet but he was starting to seriously wish that he was. There was still no way he’d be getting out of this alive, damn it. But he wouldn’t compromise his friends. 

First things first, he needed to see. He inched his arms down the length of the pole (a tree, it was a tree, there was bark scraping against his skin as he moved) to a somewhat more comfortable location and changed his position to sitting cross-legged. He tried leaning forward far enough to use his toes to push the blindfold upwards but every part of him protested and he had to break a moment, breathing heavily, stars dancing across his vision. He tried again, letting out a deep breath and leaning, straining his arms to allow him to reach further, blackness creeping in on the edges of his sight. He felt his toes against his cheek, which was wet. Good. Almost there. He managed to push the blindfold up so that it was crumbled together underneath his eyebrows. Success! He leaned back, relaxing, again trying to catch his breath, slow his racing heart, block out the pain. He couldn’t open his eyes all the way but he could see, and that was a blessing.

He surveyed his surroundings. He had been right: he was in a tent facing the entryway, which had two guards on the other side of the flap. The interior was relatively empty. There was a length of heavy rolled up fabric. Bellamy was pretty certain that these were tools of the trade of torture, having seen similar rolls among the tribes of Grounders he had dealt with. He felt confident in his earlier conclusions. The pole he was tied to was several heads taller than a man. There was nothing within reach that he could use to either help him escape or kill himself. He’d have to somehow provoke them into killing him before he could give them any information that would help them. He made himself as comfortable as he could and pondered on how he could make himself seem too dangerous to keep around.

Bellamy didn’t know how much time had passed. It was hard to tell when each breath took effort and seemed to last an eternity. He had tried standing for a while to lessen the stress on his lungs before his legs decided to give out and he had to move his arms back down the pole, the bark rough against his skin. But the fact was time had passed and a woman Grounder swept in past those guarding the door. She gave him a withering look over, before barking at the guards to bring him, her voice heavy with a dialect he could barely make out. They came near and as they undid his hands from around the stake, he started to lash out, biting and kicking. He got a knock on the head for his troubles, stunning him, as they tied his hands behind his back and pulled the blindfold back over his eyes. They hauled him upwards back onto his feet and forced him forward. He stumbled. As they walked he was able to gain enough sense to once again try to make a break for it, not caring what he’d run into, and found himself yanked backwards. One of them must’ve been holding with a strong grip onto the rope they tied his hands with. Fine. He tried charging backwards but made no better progress and received another knock to his head as a reward. His ears rung. 

His head was still wildly spinning when they entered another tent and he was forced to his knees. There was some talking but the words fell on his ears dully, meaningless, as he concentrated on staying upright and breathing, trying not to choke on the blood in his mouth from his now-busted lip. 

“Answer the Commander!” The order filtered through the layers of haze. Oh. So they were talking to him? He spat, not caring what, or who, his bloody spittle hit. The Commander? Why had they taken him to their leader? He received a punch in the stomach for his insolence.

“Em pleni!” He heard the guard take a step back as someone (the Commander?) stepped forward. Female. Shorter than him. The dialect was closer to what he was familiar with but was more harsh than local trigedasleng. “Chuhn yu bilek?”

He wondered if he should answer and give his name. He was a known leader of the Skaikru. They could hold him hostage, try to barter his release for something from Mount Weather. Or they would be more careful with their torture, knowing that he had vast stores of valuable information. Best not. “Jok of,” he dared to curse, bracing himself for another punch.

“Hod op,” the Commander snapped. The punch never came. “Chon yu bilaik?” That was the local accent. Was she trying to make sure he understood her question?

“Ai na sen yu in,” he muttered, adding as if an afterthought, “nomonjaka.” He winced at how raspy his voice sounded. So unlike his own. Now the punch came again and he collapsed with the pain, gasping. They aimed a kick at his ribs and he groaned. “Fuckers, every single shit piece of you heartless motherfuckers. Kick a guy while he’s down why don’t you, goddamnit.” He was yanked back up into a standing position, although every inch of him protested.

“Yu laik gona,” the Commander mused before switching to English. “A picture was found on your person. Where did you get it?” Her voice was cold as ice.

Picture? Clarke’s sketch! They must’ve gotten it from his pocket when they were going through his clothes. “What’s it to you?” he snapped. “It’s mine. Take your dirty hands off it and give it back!” It was his only piece of Clarke. There was no way he’d let them keep it or use it in any manner. He tried to move forward and got yanked back again. He growled at his guards.

“Where did you get it?” she demanded.

“Why do you care?” Bellamy asked again. Something was off but he couldn’t focus. “I found it. It’s mine. Give it back or I swear I’ll bring this whole camp down.” There was a snort from nearby. 

“Do you know the man pictured in the image?” the Commander asked. There was something in her voice. Something was off. What was it?

Bellamy couldn’t help but snort at the question. “Intimately,” he sneered. “Do you? Belomi Blake kum Skaikru. He’s the one pictured there and he will burn down this camp to get it back.” Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t’ve said that.

“Bell?” The Commander’s voice was disbelieving. He heard her stride up to him and refused to flinch, to back down from this Azgeda scumbag. 

His blindfold was removed and he found himself looking into a pair of startlingly familiar blue eyes. He took a step backwards and stumbled, falling to his knees, sending a shockwave through his bones, as his mind fit what was wrong with her voice into a familiar slot. He drunk in the sight of her. “Fuck. Princess? What the fuck?” But it was her. She had grown taller within the past few years, and her blonde hair was up in intricate braids as in the Grounder’s customary ways, as was the war paint across her face. She had grown into herself but it was her. Clarke Griffin was standing in front of him.

“Free him!” she ordered. The guard next to him immediately started to undo his bonds. “And fetch his clothes. You branwada couldn’t even wait to tell if it was friend or foe coming from the bunker? Who brought him in? I want them flogged for incompetence. Get Fisa Ray and have him meet us in my tent.” There was controlled rage in her voice that made him thankful it wasn’t directed at him. “You. Carry him, he’s obviously unfit to walk. Follow me.”

He felt like he was lost in the proceedings, not quite sure what was going on, as the guard picked him up after fully releasing him, and they followed Clarke,  _ Clarke _ , as she swept out of the tent and strode into a nearby complex of tents, which must be her living quarters, filled with luxurious rugs and actual furniture. “Put him in my bed,” Clarke ordered, “and leave. Keep your mouth shut, I don’t want word of this getting out yet. Alert me to when Octavia’s cohort returns and send her to meet me in Command.”

The guard did as she commanded before bowing and leaving. Bellamy’s body protested against the soft comfort of the bed and he groaned, too weak to roll over off of his back. He observed Clarke for a few seconds, watching her watch him from several feet away, her face serious and cautious. “I had more fun planned for whenever I ended up in your bed,” he said, smirking, trying to put a smile on her face, although the effect was probably ruined by how raspy his voice came out.

“Shof op,” she said.

“But I’m getting blood all over your blankets,” Bellamy said. Blood stains were so hard to get out of cloth. And he could tell that the linens he was currently laying on were high quality, soft to the touch. “If you could help me roll over, I won’t make quite such a mess.” At her hesitation, he added, “I promise I won’t bite.” That earned him a good-natured scowl from her, but she strode over, refusing to acknowledge any of her previous hesitation.

“I… also didn’t anticipate us meeting like this,” she said with a frown. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”

“To be fair, this is not my usual look. You caught me on a bad day.”

She hissed at the sight of his back as she had to peel him from the blankets to roll him over onto his stomach, making sure his head was turned so he wouldn’t suffocate. “Did we do all of this?”

Bellamy snorted. “I was bad off before walking into your Grounders’ fists. I got trod on by a stag, speared in the side by Azgedakru, caught in acid fog. It’s been a very exciting week.”

Her frown deepened. “Fog? From Mount Weather? I thought we broke that.”

He didn’t want to talk about the mountain, didn’t want to talk about his past week. He wanted to hear from her, where she had been, how she was doing, why she had come back but not let him know, as the sketch book testified. But she still seemed flighty and he was in no shape to chase after her; he didn’t want to scare her off. “Raven fixed it.”

“And they used it on you?” She sounded incredulous. The familiar sound of her disapproval made his heart sing.

“On the Azgeda. I was caught outside with a hunting party.” He started to shrug before the pain stopped him. He winced. “Friendly fire. The Azgeda knew about the tunnels.”

“The rest of your party is still in the bunker?”

“What’s left of it. There’s three of them in the bunker. One relatively fit, one with a broken leg and some burns, and then one’s completely incapacitated beneath the knees,” he listed off. “If we could get one of your healers to attend to them, I’d be grateful.”

“How many did your party begin with?” she asked.

He shrugged off her sympathy. “This is war. We’re lucky to be alive as it is.” She gave him a look and he couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably. “We started out with ten,” he said softly. Ten. And now there was less than half of that still alive. He had failed to protect six of his people and now they were dead.

She lay a hand gently on his shoulder. “I’m sure you did your best. There was nothing more you could do.” Her voice was full of confidence that what she spoke was true. 

He craned his neck up to look at her. Before he got a chance to respond, two new people came bustling in. Well, one came bustling. The other was loaded down with the supplies of the first. “I heard my skills were needed, oh great heda.” The healer was a thin, willowy character, whose sickly sweet voice offered no hint as to gender. The second person, a male Grounder who was too young to start growing facial hair, unfolded the sticks in his hand to create a tray table, which he then started to load with jars from a sack on his back.

Clarke immediately took a step back from the bed and her face seemed to shut down again. “Fisa Ray. My thanks for your coming.” She nodded at the healer who came up to her and grabbed her hands, bowing over them. 

“Oh, it is an honor to serve you. May the sun ever shine on your victories.” Clarke was obviously trying to hide her discomfort and embarrassment at Ray’s effusive praise. Bellamy took pity on her and gave a little cough to try to draw the attention off of her. “This must be the patient! Oh my, look at the state you are in, my boy!” Ray exclaimed, looking Bellamy over. “Hazu, fill the bowl with water. He will need to be washed.” While the healer came over to physically inspect Bellamy, Hazu, the boy, put a large bowl onto the small table and started to pour water from a great water skein into it. Bellamy couldn’t figure out where all these supplies kept coming from. When the bowl was full, Hazu laid a folded cloth across it, bowed, and took a step back. Bellamy winced at Ray’s cold white fingers running over his skin. “Hmm. Nothing seems broken but, my, what colors you’ll be once the bruises turn.”

At Bellamy’s unbelieving look, Clarke said, “Fisa Ray is a master of his craft. His talents surpass all others’ in the camp or else I wouldn’t have called him.”

“Your kind words are too much, as ever,” Ray declared without breaking from his inspection of Bellamy. “My humble skills are always at your service. If only you would let me attend to your personal needs-”

“Em pleni,” Clarke snapped. “I’m going to Command. Send word when you’re finished in here.” She sent Bellamy a brief apologetic glance, so quick that if he had blinked he would have missed it, and strode out of the room.

“Your wish is my command,” Ray called out to her retreating heels before sighing and refocusing on Bellamy. “The poor heda is ever so stressed. I haven’t seen her this tightly strung since word first came to us of the impending siege on the Maunde Weta. Tighter than the guts of a crossbow.” He tutted as he wet the cloth and started to wash the blood from Bellamy. The water stung and Bellamy tried not to hiss in pain. “Tighter than the skin of your shoulders will be after these scabs form and heal. Relax now. Hazu, the jar of tiebie.” The boy handed him a jar filled with a green liquid and he helped Bellamy to a more upright position before putting it to his lips. “Drink up now. You are in the best of hands.” His voice was mellifluous and Bellamy felt his own tension draining out of him. “You are safe now, Belomi kum Skaikru. The snow’s whisper won’t reach you now, and the mountain’s breath cannot smother you. The sun is shining down on you with all of her glory.” The pain was numbed and his mind felt fuzzy and he drifted off, Fisa Ray’s words still singing into his ears.

When Bellamy next groggily opened his eyes, he decided he was getting real tired of passing out and that being awake for a full day without something terrible happening would be a blessing. But his body didn’t feel as achy as he was expecting, so that was a plus. He quickly took stock of his situation. He was still in Clarke’s room, in her freshly-made bed (he was in Clarke’s bed, how unexpected was that!), which was currently empty except for him. He was still nearly naked but now his chest and back was bandaged. The tray table was still standing nearby with a pot containing some pungent item. Judging from the quality of light, it was late afternoon. There were voices coming from the main room of the tent, past the now-closed flap. He closed his eyes and relaxed, trying to listen in to whatever conversation was going on. Ray may have had one too many expired nuts, but he was right that for now Bellamy was as safe as he could get. There was nothing more he could do other than hope that Clarke had sent word to get his people out of the bunker. They’d be expecting him or a messenger come nightfall. Bellamy wondered if the strange healer Ray would be sent to tend to them. He was sure that Clarke would make sure they were taken care of though, whatever healer tended them.

The voices in the other room grew louder. He recognized one as Clarke speaking Trigedasleng. He couldn’t make out the other one. His head was still fuzzy from whatever potion Ray had drugged him with. It was easier to let the foreign words flow over him as meaningless noise than it was to try to discern the conversation. 

He closed his eyes and just let the last couple days wash over him with all of its implications and consequences. The Snow People had played their hand well. Attacking Mount Weather had drawn Clarke back down south with a large contingent of allied Grounders. Lexa’s troops were now split. There could be another contingent of Azgedakru coming up behind. Their best hope was to wipe out the current siege so they could rejoin their main forces up north. None of these thoughts were new to Bellamy but now the situation was more real. He wondered how much of a fight Clarke had to put up in order to get permission to come down. Had she even gotten permission from Lexa? Had she needed permission? From the stories he heard, she was practically a legendary figure, just as much if not more so than the Heda. And after she defeated the Azgedakru here, she would go back up North. She had an army to lead, she wouldn’t be able to just stay here, no matter how much Bellamy wanted her to stick around. And Bellamy couldn’t go with her, as much as he wanted. He still had the 23 to look after and Little C would be devastated if he left. No, he just had these few days with Clarke. He’d make the best of them. He moved as if to get up and immediately reconsidered the prospect as his body protested. He’d make the best of them after he rested a bit more. Yes. He fell back asleep as he let Clarke’s distant voice wash over him.

It was much darker the next time he opened his eyes. Night had fallen and there were a few candles burning nearby providing light to see by. Clarke was hovering over him, and smirked when she saw he was awake. “Really, Bell? That was what got your attention?” Her face was clean and she was in a simple pair of pants and a loose-fitting shirt, all her armor put away, although there was still a sheathed knife hanging from the belt at her hips.

“What was?” Bellamy asked, confused.

She simply shook her head. “Men,” she said with an eye roll. “Do you need help to sit up? I need to change your bandages.”

“No, I think I got it,” he responded and slowly sat up. He managed it on his own but couldn’t help but wince at the movement. “Where’s Fisa Ray?”

She snorted. “Back in his quarters? Hell if I know.” Clarke gave him a stern look. “I  _ was _ studying to become a medic on the Arc, in case you’ve forgotten. I can handle the simple task of applying salves and changing bandages.”

“How could I forget? We would’ve died without your expertise. Several times over,” Bellamy said. “I was just curious. He was… interesting.” At his unspoken approval, Clarke moved close to him and started undoing the wrappings around his chest. He breathed in her scent, feeling heady.

She snorted again. “That’s one word for it. I hate that man. But he’s the best we got, despite all the sun to his head.” She glanced at him to judge his interest before explaining. “We picked him up while in Nykapa. Rico wanted to get rid of him, found him too unnerving, how he seems to know everything. Rico had ended up with him when Ray floated into the city on a raft, bright red and screaming like a newborn babe. None of the Sea People we’ve run into will lay claim on him and he says he has no memory of ‘the time before forever floating on the wide glistening water.’” She did a poor imitation of the healer’s high silky voice, earning her a chuckle from Bellamy. “Half-mad and never recovered, if you ask me. But I keep him around for the good of the kru.”

“But won’t let him personally attend you?” Bellamy said with a smirk.

She ripped the last layer of bandages off suddenly, causing him to yelp. “No,” she said, her tone brooking no discussion.

They sat in silence for a moment as she wrapped up the discarded bandages until Bellamy could stand it no longer. “How’s Octavia?” he asked.

“She’s good.” She gave him a look over, as if deciding how much to tell him. “She’s leading one of our guerilla troops. Special forces, sort of thing.” Bellamy shook his head. Of course she’d throw herself in the middle of danger. “How’s… everyone else?”

Bellamy spent the next half hour telling her all about the surviving twenty members of the original one hundred of them who were sent down, who all had died, how Raven was able to hobble around on her own and had her own workshop, how Monty and Jasper worked in the fields and ran a few illicit stills, and about the additional couple that had been added with Arc approval, while Clarke applied the salve to his back. He didn’t know if there was anything that was both so relaxing and yet spine-tingling as her hands on him. He didn’t want her to stop. “Ash is Quanna’s kid. I’m pretty sure Asher is the father, but she wouldn’t say,” he explained. “They stay with the Arc for the most part, which makes the Council happy. They’d prefer to have all the children under their dominion.”

“You don’t agree,” said Clarke, more a statement than a question.

“They do have better access to medicine and Ash will be better treated because they’re a bunch of elitist pricks,” Bellamy admitted. “But I don’t trust them.”

Clarke snorted and leaned back, admiring her handiwork. “If they use the acid fog so freely, I don’t blame you. So do you have any kids under your ‘dominion’?”

Bellamy nodded and replied, “Clarke.” She tilted her head in confusion and he shook his head at his mistake and elaborated, “Little C. Monroe’s child. Named after you.” Her eyes widened and a faint red stained her cheeks. “She’s basically our mascot at Camp Jaha. We all have a hand in raising her. ‘It takes a village’ and all that. She loves to hear stories about you. We all do.”

Clarke reached for a new roll of bandages. “I can’t believe you named a child after me.”

“Hey now, I didn’t name her. Monroe did.” He turned to look at her face to face. “She missed you. We all did. I did. I’ve missed you, Clarke.”

She averted her eyes and moved behind him, out of his view. “I know,” she said softly as she started to bandage him back up. In a stronger voice, she tried to change the subject asking, “Just two births? In all these years? I remember them going at it like rabbits.”

Bellamy sighed but took the bait. “No one wanted to hear me give The Talk again.” He grinned at the memory. “You should have been there; you’d’ve been rolling on the ground laughing.”

Clarke snorted. “You probably would’ve made me give it.”

“Probably,” Bellamy agreed good-naturedly. “At least to the girls.”

“And you’re telling me that you scared them off sex?”

“Maybe for a while. But no, I scared them off getting pregnant until they decide they’re ready for it. They go to Lincoln before going to the medbay in all cases anyways, we get less of a wait and better treatment that way, and he’ll help with contraception, which the Arc has made illegal.”

“Aren’t you worried about them getting in trouble then?”

Bellamy shook his head. “They don’t really want us criminals to reproduce anyways. We’ll just make more delinquents that’ll drain resources.” He rolled his eyes. “Bullshit, all of it. But in this case it works in our favor.” He shrugged.

“Have they said that?” Clarke asked, indignant.

“Of course not. But it’s in the way they look at us and the work they give us. We may have all been pardoned, but we haven’t been forgiven.” He shrugged again, relishing how the tingling salve had numbed the pain. “If more of our families had made it down alive, maybe then more of us would assimilate back into ‘civilization’ rather than to the krunes.”

“Sounds like it was back on the Arc,” she said with a frown.

“The elite always need working backs to live off of, Princess.” He tugged on a strand of her hair. “At least now we’re free to leave if we want to.” She frowns. There’s a moment of silence and she leans away, finished. He misses the warmth her body radiated as she moves to clean up. “The Council’s been planning an expedition,” Bellamy says suddenly. “After the whole conflict with the Azgeda wraps up. The Grounders have done a good job at fleshing out our maps, and Mount Weather has been a good base for many, but we want to know our extended surroundings better and we’re still looking for a place that can be called ours.” She looks over at him and he feels embarrassed. Her look is intense, as if trying to read him, and then she offers him a small smile.

“I assume you’re on that planning committee?” she asked.

“I am,” he replied. 

“I’ll make sure Lacha gives you some of our maps. I’ve been able to fill out more of the Northern portions,” she said over her shoulder as she rifled through a trunk.

“That’s right, I’ve heard some about your forays into enemy territory.” Instead about asking her the veracity of some of the stories he heard, he asked, “Who’s Lacha?”

“My second. No, you don’t know her,” she said, answering his question before he could even speak it. “I picked her up in Nykapa. You’ll like her. She reminds me of Raven.”

“Sounds like you picked up a lot of people in the big city,” he remarked.

She shrugged. “The Grounders flock to me as if I was Lexa herself.” Clarke rolled her eyes and found what she was looking for, pulling out a bedroll from the wooden chest.

“What’s that for?” Bellamy asked as she stood.

She looked over at him exasperatedly. “You’re in my bed, Bellamy, and it’s late. We’ve got a strike in the morning and I need some sleep.”

“As much as I appreciate you protecting my honor,” he drawled, and he was delighted to see pink stain her cheeks, “this bed is huge. There’s plenty of room for both of us. There’s no sense in sleeping on the hard ground if you don’t have to.”

“It’s fine,” Clarke said, waving him off. “I’ve been pampered too much. The ground will be good for me.”

“Clarke, I’ve been sleeping on tree branches for the past week and a half. You won’t even notice I’m here.” She ignored him, spreading out the roll. He rolled his eyes and started to get out of the bed.

“What are you doing?” she snapped.

“Letting you have your bed. You have a war to fight in the morning, you need a good night’s sleep.”

“And your back is blistered to no tomorrow. Get back in the bed!”

“Only if you join me.”

She folded her arms and glared at him. For a moment he wondered if he should just let it drop but he didn’t back down and stood there. He could cross his arms and glare just as well as she could. She broke first. “Fine,” she huffed, kicking the bedroll back over towards the trunk and snuffed out all the candles but the ones in the tall stand by the bed. “Get back into bed,” she ordered, unsheathing her knife and putting it by the pillow on the opposite side of the bed as Bellamy before undoing her belt. Bellamy obeyed and sank gratefully back into the bed. “People will talk, you know.”

“You had them put me in your bed. There will be talk anyways,” he pointed out. “And I thought you ordered my presence to be kept secret?”

“You’re a valuable ally who we almost killed. You’re to be accorded every comfort we have in return for the wrong we’ve done you. They understand that,” she said. “What they won’t understand is why I’m in bed with this valuable ally.”

“Once they see my dashing figure it will all be clear,” he said and she hit him in the face with her pillow. “Hey!”

She looked down her nose at him. “It needed fluffing.”

“Whatever, Princess.” He laid back in bed, being careful to stay on the far right quarter of the bed. “What are you even doing with a royal-sized bed like this anyways?”

She scowled. “Lexa insisted on all of this,” she said, gesturing towards the whole room. “It adds to my image of prestige as a successful war commander. I keep trying to leave things behind along the trail but Lacha always catches me and make sure it gets taken care of. She always finds things to add to it all.” Clarke sighed, getting comfortable in the bed. “Having a second is helpful but it can also be goddamned frustrating when they get it into their head they know better than you.”

“How is Lexa?” he asked carefully.

She rolled over to look at him with a quirked eyebrow. “Freezing her ass up in the Ice Nation, pushing that front further north. She should be halfway to the Pole by now, for all the good it’ll do her.” She snorted. At Bellamy’s questioning look, she expanded, “I haven’t seen her for… what, years? Not since Otwa? Since then we’ve been using messengers to yell at each other from afar instead.”

“What happened at Otwa?”

Clarke rolled over onto her back. After a moment of silence she said, “Otwa was a Azgeda city. Bigger than TonDC, with a portion of it underground. We caught the new Ice Queen there. She summoned me and my army to help her take it, since she had enough numbers to surround it but not much else. And at that point I had Typha. Remember how when we first landed the Trikru sent Murphy back to us to infect and kill us all?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well, biological warfare is a common strategy. Typha was a Grounder who was a carrier of a virus. As Wanheda, Lexa found it fitting for me to be in command of this girl who could wipe out entire villages.” Her voice held bitterness in it as she spoke the title others had graced her with. He wanted to reach out to comfort her but knew she wouldn’t appreciate it so kept his promise to stay on his side and continued to listen. “Few people knew about her existence. All they knew is that I’d come with my people and I’d leave a decimated camp behind. I got the credit, not Typha. So since Lexa had the city contained, she sent for me to do my part. We were to take one of the rivers under the ground and then climb up into the city through their tunnels. Lexa didn’t count on my lack of trust of her. She had told me that the Queen had evacuated the city before her army had reached it, that it was just the warriors remaining. She lied.” Clarke snorted. “Not surprising, I know. The truth is not commonly found coming from her tongue. I had sent my own scouts, people I  _ did _ trust, on ahead. They found that the city had not been evacuated. There were still children and elders there. There were also our own people. The Azgeda was keeping prisoners of war there, in a hidden cave. My people were being held there. Octavia was being held there.”

“What?” Bellamy exclaimed but it was like he hadn’t spoken as she continued.

“Lexa was expecting me to send in Typha and then cleanse what remained of the city. Once I got the full picture from my scouts, I changed the plan. Typha would be too dangerous. We’d wipe out the city on our own, without Typha, and we’d rescue our comrades. We did pretty well too, but I hadn’t had enough time to plan. Things went wrong. Octavia almost died anyways, getting knocked off the edge into one of the rivers underground. I got her back but let the Ice Queen escape in the process. Lexa was furious. Too many of our warriors died in the process of taking the city without the reward of the head of the Azgeda Heda. We fought. If she had told me the truth we could have figured out a better strategy rather than forcing me to think on my feet,” she said defensively. “I had had enough of her using me for her dirty work while keeping me in the dark.” She clenched and unclenched her fists. “She had had enough of me not following orders to the letter.” Clarke laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Neither of us have changed. She would’ve liked to see me dead, but I’m too valuable to her, to the others, to the war. If she let it be known that I openly challenged her authority, well, I have my own supporters. Her allies would splinter, picking sides. There’d be another civil war. We need peace. That’s all I want.” Exhaustion laced her voice.

“Then come home,” Bellamy said, finally speaking up. “Let Lexa finish her war. We could use you here. You can go back to helping me build up our people.”

She looked back over at him. “Bellamy, I’m tired. Could we not talk about this right now?”

It was his turn to look away. The pain in her eyes was too much. “Fine. But the offer stands.”

Clarke blew out the last remaining candles, plunging them into darkness. “Goodnight, Bellamy.”

“Goodnight.” But he hadn’t been awake for that long and so his body refused to go to sleep. He laid there, silent, listening, eyes adjusting to the darkness. He could tell the instant that Clarke fell asleep, her breathing smoothing out and slowing down. He matched his breathing to hers and eventually the sound of it lulled him to sleep.

When Bellamy awoke the next morning, it was to the sound of his stomach growling, and he discovered that he was sprawled across the bed and alone. Judging from the quality of the light filtering through the fabric of the tent, it was already almost mid-day. Clarke must have gone off to today’s battle hours ago. He got out of bed and gingerly stretched, pleased to note that while his back was feeling stiff, it didn’t hurt, and the rest of his body was merely aching. After locating some clean clothes to wear that had been left at the foot of the bed, he left the bed chamber, entering into the main room of the large tent. There was a table with maps spread out upon half of it. The other half, he saw with a sigh of relief, held baskets of food. He grabbed a couple of rolls and munched on them while looking over the maps, which were of fine quality, and displayed the mountain and surrounding area in great detail. Judging from the maps, Clarke had her troops driving the Azgedakru into the tunnels, where she could then blockade them. A siege on the siege. If the people within Mount Weather opened up the tunnels from their side, they could try to smoke them out and up into Clarke’s waiting armies, speeding up the process. Of course, that would also give the Azgedakru a chance to get inside the mountain, but Bellamy was confident that the warriors and hunters inside would be able to keep the situation under control. Such an attack would need coordination with those inside. He needed to know where Clarke had put the rest of his party and the radio.

He went to exit the tent but was prevented by two guards who were standing outside the flap. “I must ask you to return inside. You’re to stay in here, heda Belomi,” the one on the right said, a big man, skin darkened from years in the sun. Bellamy recognized him as the one who carried him into the tent in the first place. “Wanheda wishes you to be here when she returns. We can have Fisa Ray summoned if you are seeking care.”

Bellamy frowned. Was Clarke holding him prisoner? “I want to see the rest of my kru. Clarke said that they’d receive care.”

“And they have, heda. If you like, we can have them meet you in the outer chamber. But you must return inside.”

“No. You may escort me to where the rest of my people are resting,” Bellamy said, taking a step further outside. The second guard stepped in front of him and raised his arm warningly to stop him but Bellamy easily dodged it and continued walking out. When the first guard tried to use the spear he was holding to block his way, Bellamy twisted it out of his hands and continued. “Now, which direction are they?”

The guards exchanged glances. He could tell that they were trying to figure out how to handle this predicament now that he had called their bluff. His assumption that Clarke would leave orders to not harm him seemed to be holding out. The first guard gave a slight bow. “This way, heda, if you’ll follow me.”

He was led through the maze of tents. There weren’t that many warriors out and the few people he did see didn’t pay them any attention. Finally the guards stopped outside one tent that looked much like all the others and gestured him to enter as they set themselves up outside the opening. Bellamy went inside and saw Tanner and Kael sitting at a makeshift table that held the radio on it and had a gun from the bunker and crutches leaning against it. Kis was sitting nearby on one of the three cots within talking with Fisa Ray. Upon catching sight of Bellamy, both Tanner and Kael stood, drawing the attention of Fisa Ray and Kis. 

The healer swept over to him, bowing. “Heda Belomi! The sun must shine down upon you; it’s light is emanating from your eyes. You are looking well and refreshed.” He added with a sly grin, “As did the Wanheda as she left for battle early this gray morn.”

“Your concoction works miracles and I thank you for it,” Bellamy said with a respectful nod, “as well as for turning your attention to the rest of my party.”

“They will heal, they will heal,” Fisa Ray assured him. “Heda hunter Kis should be able to walk on the mother ground by the time the moon fills out again. If the hunter can stand to stay in bed that long.” He smiled over to Kis, who scowled.

“Glad to hear it,” Bellamy replied, before turning his attention fully to Kael and Tanner. “How are things going? Heard much more from the Council?”

“No,” Tanner said. “We reported to them that we had made contact with the reinforcements and joined them. They want to discuss strategy with you and Clarke this evening, if possible. Otherwise, radio silence.”

Bellamy nodded. “If Clarke is back by then, that should be possible. I’ve got an idea I’d like to share with them myself.”

“Dream team’s back together. We’ll be back home by the end of the week,” Tanner said happily, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. 

“Dream team?” Kael asked.

“Clarke and Bellamy, Mom and Dad,” Tanner explained. “When they’re together, nothing can stop them. Bellamy couldn’t have defended the dropship without Clarke and Clarke couldn’t’ve taken down the Maunon without Bellamy. You think she’s legendary now? Just wait. Now that they’re back together, they’ll succeed at things you’d never even imagine!”

“Tanner,” Bellamy said, a note of warning in his voice, “we’re not ‘back together.’”

The young ex-convict’s face fell. “What? Why not?”

“Because we are two adults facing real life, not some characters in a story,” he replied sternly. “We’re both here to get rid of the Azgeda and then we’ll continue on our lives.” 

If possible, Tanner’s face dropped even further. “You don’t think Clarke is going to stay?”

“Do you really think she’d be happy to live in the shadow of the mountain?” Bellamy pointed out.

“If you were there, she would be,” Tanner muttered under his breath, kicking at the table leg with his good leg, the other now properly splinted. 

Bellamy shook his head, wanting to drop the subject. “Kael, how are your blisters?” Kael simply lifted up the loose shirt he was wearing. His side was looking in much better shape, the skin no longer puckering angrily. “Good.”

One of his guards stuck his head into the tent. “Heda Belomi, may we escort you back to your tent now?” It was clear that he hoped the answer would be yes.

He stopped himself from rolling his eyes. They were just trying to follow orders, stuck between a rock and a hard place. He had gotten what he came for: reassurance that his people were safe and being taken care of. Although he wouldn’t have minded more time on the radio to check in on his people under the mountain. “Let me know if you receive any transmissions,” he instructed Tanner and Kael. “You should be able to send word to Clarke’s tent to reach me.” He shot a disapproving look at Tanner, whose eyebrows had shot up and began to smile. “I’ll come by again this evening.” And with that, he gave a nod to Fisa Ray and left, the guards trailing after him. 

He was proud of himself for finding the way back to the tent without guidance. If this was meant to be a power struggle with Clarke, well, he’d show he could match her wit to wit. They had been a team, a good partnership. They had held equal leadership. She could not hold him down, keep him in the dark. He quietly fumed within the main room of the tent, the guards resuming their place outside the opening. He studied and restudied the maps on the table, trying to distract himself, trying to soak up as much as he could so that Clarke would have no excuse to leave him behind when she next went off to battle. 

When the light gained the golden tinge of the late afternoon sun, a young woman started bringing in food. First a bowl of rolls, then a plate with a whole chicken, then a bowl of fruit. Bellamy just watched the proceedings. That was way too much food for just one person. When she brought in and placed three goblets on the table, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and started to roll up the maps so they would be undamaged by the meal. Two additional people. One must be Clarke. The other? Probably her second, Bellamy mused. What did Clarke say her name was? Lacha? He noted the serving girl bring a large bowl of water into the inner bedroom.

He was soon proved right. Clarke swept in, striding through to her room without even taking note of him, face set in a scowl. Despite her dark-colored clothing, he could tell that she was covered in dirt and blood. Her charcoal war paint was smeared from the design he saw her wear the previous day and her hair was a tangled mess. She was already starting to strip, undoing her belt. He followed her into the private portion of the tent. Apparently she really hadn’t noticed him, as when he pushed open the flap she instantly whirled around, holding her sword at his throat. After a second, realization hit and she lowered her weapon. “Damn it, Bellamy, don’t sneak up on me after a battle.” She put the sword back into the sheath in her other hand and tossed it by her trunk.

“Really, Princess?” he said with a raised eyebrow. “That could hardly have been called sneaking. Especially since you’ve had me trapped here all day.”

“I did not,” she said indignantly. “Now turn around, I need to change.” He simply folded his arms and smirked. She rolled her eyes, huffed, and turned around herself as she stripped, trailing clothes as she made her way to the wash basin on a fold-out tray table, keeping her back to him. Bellamy couldn’t complain about the view.

“Your guards didn’t want to let me leave,” Bellamy stated.

“You shouldn’t be up and about, you should still be resting,” she replied, using the cloth on the side of the bowl to wash off the dirt, sweat, and blood from her body.

“I’m fine,” Bellamy insisted. “I’m not some wounded warrior on my death bed. The pain is gone and the movement is fine.”

“I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

“I know my own limits.”

“I already know you forced my guards to disobey orders.”

“You should’ve just asked me to stay. We could have talked about it.”

“You were asleep. Like I said, you need to rest.”

“If I was going to spend all day resting, it would have been fine to wake me up for a five minute discussion instead of treating me as a prisoner!”

“I didn’t want to wake you! Stars above and rocks below, Bellamy! Is that a crime?” She tossed the cloth into the bowl with a splash and whirled around, furious.

If Bellamy hadn’t been so angry himself, the view of her in all her majestic glory would have completely distracted him. As it was, he was only thrown for a moment. “I’m not stupid, Clarke. I know that’s not the only reason you’ve been trying to contain me in here.”

“Then tell me, if you’re so smart, what other reason could I possibly have for leaving you asleep in bed,” she demanded.

“Why don’t you want me to leave your tent?”

“I want you to rest! My people beat you half to death! Your own people tried to kill you!”

“They didn’t try to kill me-” he started to protest before Clarke interrupted him, snorting.

“Are you so sure of that? You don’t have any enemies besides the Azgeda? That no one’s coveting your position? You said yourself, you basically run Camp Jaha.”

“Now you’re just being paranoid.”

She rolled her eyes and strode over to the trunk, digging in it for fresh clothes. “It’s one of the reasons I’m still alive,” she muttered darkly. 

“Clarke-”

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” she snapped, as she tossed on a simple gray outfit. “I’m sorry for caring about your welfare. My mistake. I won’t do it again.” She slid a small sheathed knife onto her belt and left the room.

It took Bellamy a moment to realize that she hadn’t ever actually answered his question and strode out into the front room angrily. “Now look here-”

“You must be Belomi,” a woman he estimated to be around O’s age interrupted him. Her arms were covered in tattooed lines and she wore her hair short on the sides but tall on the top, as if she was a bird. Considering her build, Bellamy wouldn’t be surprised if her bones turned out to also be hollow like her feathered friends. Her voice was carefully neutral, although she was fingering her knife. 

He threw a look over to Clarke, to warn her that this wasn’t over. “Yes. Of the Skaikru. And who are you?”

She inclined her head towards him. “Lacha cum Nykappa. Currently serving under Wanheda.” There was an undercurrent of threat there if Bellamy showed disrespect for her commander.

Clarke rolled her eyes at the title and took her seat at the table. “Come on you two, now that pleasantries are over, I’m starving. Take a seat.” Lacha took the seat to Clarke’s right, leaving the one on Clarke’s left open. After a moment of hesitance, he also sat down, noting that Clarke didn’t reach for any food until after her second had taken a bite of it. Was she really afraid of poisoning? Bellamy threw caution to the wind and served himself a little something of everything and immediately began to eat.

The only noise during the meal was the sound of them consuming food. Clarke and Bellamy were decidedly not speaking to each other and Lacha simply watched Bellamy, keeping an eye on him throughout the entire meal. Despite her staring seeming more curious than threatening, it did nothing to help Bellamy’s nerves, which were still on edge from the shouting match. He was so tightly strung that when there was a noise at the flap of the door, he immediately found himself standing, gripping his knife. Lacha, tuned into his movements, had mimicked him, prepared for any threat. It turned out to merely be a guard, come to alert Clarke that the Skaikru heda was requesting their presence on the radio. She raised an eyebrow, amused at the antics of Bellamy and Lacha. “Come then,” she said, also standing. “Dessert can wait. Let’s go see what my mother has to say.” She kept her voice casual but Bellamy noted the hint of anxiety underlying it and the tightness around her eyes.

The guard led the three of them in the oncoming darkness to the tent where Bellamy’s party and the radio were kept. Tanner lit up with excitement upon seeing Clarke and bounced up and away from where he was sitting with the radio like a three-legged puppy while both Kis and Kael stayed back, their eyes giving away the awe they felt. Lacha positioned herself by the door. Clarke took the seat Tanner offered her in front of the radio with a smile in greeting and Bellamy pulled a chair over next to her. “Heda Clarke and heda Bellamy here. Are you receiving? Over.”

“Clarke? God, it is you! How are you?” Chancellor Griffin’s voice came crackling over the airwaves.

After a moment, Clarke replied, “Conducting a war on your behalf. I should have you out from under there within a fortnight. Over.” 

“Clarke!” Abby’s voice was filled with disappointment. “Bellamy, tell me, how is she? Really?”

“She’s in good shape, Chancellor,” Bellamy said assuringly. “Much the same as when she left. All in one piece and as pig-headed as ever.” He smirked over at her.

“Bring her home, Bellamy.”

“Mother, that is not up for discussion,” Clarke broke in before Bellamy could say anything. “I was under the impression that you called to discuss strategy. If you and Bellamy want to catch up and exchange gossip, I’ll leave.”

“To business then.” Abby took on her Chancellor voice. “We have supplies to last us a few months but morale is down. A good number of our current population doesn’t deal well with enclosed spaces. For that reason, as well as to prevent loss of life that comes with drawn out battles, we’d like to see the siege resolved as soon as possible.”

“Understood,” Clarke said. “We’ve heard that you’ve collapsed the tunnels. To what degree? Would it be possible for you to open them so together we can flank the Azgedakru trapped underground?”

“Not without allowing for the strong possibility of a breach. We won’t risk it,” said the Chancellor.

“Bellamy reported that your receiving tower has been damaged. What surveillance coverage do you still maintain?” Clarke asked.

“Our camera feeds in and immediately near the tunnels and by the doors are still in working condition. Otherwise we’re flying blind.”

“He also said you got the Veil up and running again. Is it fully operational or is it missing functionalities?”

“Raven hasn’t been able to fix its targeting features yet, so we can only release it in wide swathes rather than controlled areas. She also says hello and she can’t wait to see you again.” Both Clarke and Bellamy snorted at that.

“Let me guess. Her exact phrase went along the lines of she’ll kick my ass the next time she sees me?” Clarke’s lips twitched upwards.

“Perhaps,” Abby said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Is there any other support you can provide from the maunde?” Clarke asked, back to business.

“If you can secure our receiving towers, we can send someone up there to work on getting us back full sight,” the Chancellor suggested.

Clarke nodded. “We’ll see about working on that. Anything else?”

“Just the acid fog.”

“Which you can’t control. Right.” Clarke leaned back in her chair.

“Is that such a problem?” Clarke and Bellamy turned in surprise to Kis, who was sitting up. 

“What?” Bellamy asked.

“Yes,” Clarke replied. “If we can’t aim the fog then loss to friendly fire is too high, especially as most of the Azgeda are cowering in the tunnels.” There was a slight hint of pride in her voice at that.

“Then leave. The breath of the maunde rarely crosses the river,” Kis pointed out.

“Hmm. Fake a retreat, making sure to give them some incentive to draw them out. Coordinate a release of the acid fog.”

“Clarke? Are you still there?” The Chancellor’s voice came back over the radio.

She leaned back forward. “Yes, sorry. One of Bellamy’s people had an idea.”

“No,” said Bellamy, thinking of Lateesh and the others. “I could still have people out there. If you let out the fog, they’ll die.”

“Hold a sec, Mom,” Clarke said before turning to Bellamy. “I’m sorry Bellamy but your people are dead.”

“You don’t know that. They could still be alive. We survived the acid fog,” he gestured to himself and the members of his party. “They could have found somewhere to hole up.”

“Then they’ll be able to hole up again and be fine,” Clarke pointed out before going back to the radio. “Okay, Mom, how long does it take to release the acid fog and how long will it last?”

“No, we’re not doing this,” Bellamy said. Clark lifted her eyes heavenwards. In the candlelight he could see how paint still stained the skin around her eyes. “You charged me with their safety. That includes from you.”

“You took their safety upon you as a responsibility long before that,” Clarke responded, a hint of a frown around her lips.

“We can release the fog with half an hour warning and we can keep it going for upwards of an hour.” Abby’s voice came from the radio, unaware of the drama happening in the tent.

“Clarke.” The word held a note of warning.

“Lacha,” Clarke called out. “How do you think we should use the acid fog?”

“Not as Belomi’s second suggests,” she responded, not turning from her guard position. Bellamy bit back the rejection of her assumption of Kis’s rank. “The Azgeda did not get this far south by being stupid. They will not easily fall for a trap. We would have to give them good reason for thinking we’re retreating and that will be too high a cost of life. Is there not a way to flood the tunnels with the maun’s breath?”

A proud smile now surely graced Clarke and she nodded. “Very good.” Bellamy was confused but kept silent. “A reason and a solution.” Was she just using this as a training exercise for her second? She spoke into the radio. “Have Raven work on rerouting the pipes for the fog to release it into the tunnels. If you have to move all the Skaikru to the top levels of Mount Weather and just flood the lower levels with it, do so. The fog sinks as it disperses, it’ll find it’s way into the tunnels, where the air currents will do the rest of the work. The Azgedakru will find themselves trapped between a rock and a hard place.” 

“Clarke, I’m not sure if that’s something the Council will agree to-”

“Then convince them,” the heda interrupted the Chancellor brusquely. “Else you’ll have a problem with burrowing Azgedakru. I know it will take a while to get the mechanics worked out. I’ll expect a chat with Raven at sunset tomorrow to hear about the plans.” 

“If we flood the lower levels, the risk involved-”

“If you were willing to risk the lives of your people on the ground, you can risk the lives of your people under it in a more controlled environment,” Clarke snapped.

“The Council voted for the greater good-”

“And was willing to risk the chaos that would have resulted with Heda Blake’s death. I understand that your circumstances must have been desperate to be that short-sighted. Now take my plan to Raven and your Council. Over and out.”

She was already halfway out the door when the Chancellor said, “Bellamy, if you’re still there, Mr. Miller is here to talk to you.”

“Copy that, Chancellor, put him on,” Bellamy said, moving to the seat that Clarke had been sitting in just a moment ago. He looked up to see her give him a nod before leaving with Lacha. He noted that the guard remained behind and wondered briefly if he was there to lead him back to spend the night with Clarke again or if he was to make sure Bellamy didn’t leave this tent but Miller came on the radio and gave him a better run-down of the mountain than Raven had been able to several nights ago. When the Chancellor had said that certain members of the population weren’t doing well stuck underground, she had been understating the matter. The Grounders were itching to breathe fresh air and were not in a habit of hiding and cowering but fighting. Enree had to quell a couple major fights and prevent some goufas from attempting to leave. While Mount Weather did include a room for people to expend excess energy, they had to convert half a level for the same purpose. Between Enree, Detta, and Miller they had been able to keep anyone from receiving the excessively harsh punishments the Council was used to giving out as a remnant of policy on the Arc, but everyone’s patience was running short. The sooner they could leave the mountain, the better.

As a note of happier news, Miller left Bellamy with news of Little C and how she was loving the time with Monroe, following her everywhere, often literally hanging onto her or sitting on her back as her mother went about her business or worked out in the gym, the whole time begging for the opportunity to meet her namesake once the Wanheda got rid of the snowpeople and asking for news of Bellamy, who laughed at the mental images his words conjured. “Tell her I’m doing well and can’t wait to see her. I’m sure Clarke wouldn’t mind meeting such an ardent admirer.”

“How long does it seem like she’ll stay, afterwards?” Miller asked.

Bellamy sighed. “I don’t know. Not for long. I don’t think she’d be happy back at Camp Jaha.” Tanner made a loud noise of disappointment and Bellamy was reminded of the presence of the others. He quickly wrapped up his conversation with Miller after that. Steeling himself for the possibility of being told to remain where he was, he left the tent and let out an internal breath of relief as the guard led him back to Clarke’s tent, leaving him to enter alone.

Clarke and Lacha were at the table in the outer room, the maps rolled out again, their corners being held down by small bowls of sweet cakes. “Octavia’s team will see what they can do for the summit. See if Asher can join them, he has some working knowledge of tech. Brook too, she’s good with her hands and will pick things up quickly. I want her to apprentice at the maunde when this is over, it’ll be good for her to have an in,” the heda was saying. She stopped speaking when she saw Bellamy enter. She tossed him a sweet cake from the nearest bowl. “Have a good gossip?” she asked, tempering the words with a small smile.

He easily caught the treat. “The Grounders really aren’t handling being stuck underground very well. Octavia’s here?”

“We are a people of action,” Lacha agreed.

“And of space. Which there just isn’t enough of within the mountain.”

“Our timeline depends on Raven and her kru,” Clarke said. “We can finish this as soon as she can loose the fog into the tunnels.”

“Which was your plan the whole time?” Bellamy asked. “Kis’s plan was never under serious consideration.”

“Like Lacha said, the loss of life necessary in order to get the Azgedakru to successfully take the bait made it a poor course of action,” Clarke said. “We’d be better continuing our clashes and picking them off.”

“Which is what you have Octavia doing? Is she here?” Bellamy repeated, taking a bite of the cake. It practically melted in his mouth. 

“No,” Clarke replied. “Her group is not with the rest of the camp. She should be halfway up the mountain by now.” She gestured towards a mark on the nearest map. That’s not how her earlier statements made it sound but he couldn’t think of a reason why she’d lie to him about his sister so accepted it. 

“You already anticipated sending her to the peak?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “What did you think I’d do with the information you gave me?” Clarke asked in response, explaining, “You said repair work would be needed. In order for that to happen, it has to be secure. It’s a worthwhile endeavor because then we can have more eyes on the ground. Admittedly, not the highest priority since we’ve got sight on what we need, but still helpful.”

“And Octavia?”

“There could be Azgedakru and her team is the best for guerilla warfare. She’ll pick them off before they even realize she’s there,” Clarke replied.

“And what will we be doing tomorrow?”

“You’ll be here resting. I’ll be leading another attack on the Azgedakru by the northeast tunnel.” She pointed to another area on the map that Lacha was currently busy arranging miniatures on.

“No. I’m coming with you,” Bellamy said.

“Bell, there’s not a mirror or else I’d tell you to look in it,” Clarke said. “You’re a mass of bruises. If you move too much too quickly, your back is going to tear back open. You’re still healing. I won’t be able to keep an eye on you during battle. You need to stay here.”

“You don’t need to keep an eye on me, Princess. I’m not some goufa that needs supervision. I can take care of myself just fine. I’m going with you tomorrow and you can’t stop me,” Bellamy said.

Lacha took a step forward, ready to defend her master or her master’s honor, whichever Bellamy was threatening, but Clarke waved her off. “Pleni,” said Clarke. “If you are awake when we ride, I’ll take you with us. If you sleep through like you did this morning, you are staying here and not complaining to me about it when I return.” She gestured again and Lacha poured drinks into three goblets.

“Deal.” Bellamy took the drink offered him and clinked it with Clarke’s before taking a sip, sealing the agreement.

They spent the next while going over plans for the next day before Bellamy let a yawn escape. Clarke quickly wrapped things up and sent Lacha on her way before shooing Bell into the inner chamber. She tossed him a change of clothes to sleep in before getting into something more comfortable herself and climbed into bed, making sure to have her knife within reach under her pillow. Bellamy refused to feel self-conscious about changing in front of her. He had already seen all of her earlier, after all, and, he glanced over at her on the bed, it wasn’t even like she was looking, she was already curled up in bed, eyes closed. In Camp Jaha there was little privacy and during extreme heat waves in the summers there had been days where bare skin was all the rage. But it was different, in front of Clarke. So he changed as quickly as he could and slid into his side of the bed, snuffing out the candles on the way.

He laid there in the dark on his stomach, facing Clarke. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, he could make out her form, her blonde hair easily drawing the eye. Her eyes were closed and her breathing even. He would’ve supposed that she was asleep but then she murmured, barely audible, “You care so much. I’ve missed that.” He waited to see if she would say anything else, whether he should respond, but there followed nothing but silence. 

He tried to sleep lightly that night but he awoke once again to an empty bed. Fisa Ray was bustling into the room, followed by his boy Hazu scurrying forward to set things up. “Good morning, heda Bellamy. May the sun ever shine on your form,” he greeted.

“Where’s Clarke? What are you doing here?” Bellamy asked, scowling, still feeling disoriented from waking.

“Our glorious Wanheda is out cleansing souls from this plane of existence,” the healer answered. Bellamy decided he hated how the light glinted off of the man’s bald head. “And I am here as someone needs to let your skin drink in some air.” He gave a slight bow. “If I may?”

“Sure, fine, whatever,” Bellamy said, frustrated that he had somehow again slept through Clarke leaving. He took off his shirt, allowing Ray to start unwrapping the bandages. He wished it was Clarke. “When did she leave?”

“In the gray light of morning before the birds started to wake.” At least Ray was efficient, his fingers quickly passing the used cloth from hand to hand, amassing a roll. “Did the mistress of sleep please you well during the night?”

It took him a moment to translate the words laced with poetry. “I slept well,” he answered, “Deeper than I meant to.”

“Your body has much to recover from but you are a man of action. You are not letting it rest as you let your men,” the healer scolded, before offering, “I can give you a draught to put you to sleep to speed the both the process and the day along to keep you from restless wanderings.”

Bellamy considered his options for the rest of the day. He knew where Clarke took her army. He could try to go after them. It was a stupid idea, albeit tempting. He could be a distraction at the worst moment. And he had agreed to the bargain he struck with her. He was a man of his word, he’d honor it. Which meant his day was looming empty and long ahead of him. “I would appreciate that, Fisa.”

“The pleasure to serve is mine.” Ray bobbed his head. “Hazu, fetch the sleeping draught. Mix it two to one with the wine.” He discarded the dirtied bandages and inspected Bellamy’s back and shoulders, his long fingers running across his skin as gently as a shadow, making the skin on the back of his neck prickle. “It is doing well but needs to breathe. Do not put your shirt back on. We will reapply the bandages this evening.” He ran a quick inspection over the rest of Bellamy. “Your skin may be discoloured but the damage remains only skin-deep. Time will heal these bruises.” As he took a step back, Hazu handed Bellamy a full goblet.

“Thank you,” Bellamy said and took a long drink of the bitter-sweet liquid before settling back into bed, his eyes already feeling heavy. He was out before he could hear Fisa Ray and his helper leave. 

He woke up to the noise of Clarke crashing her way into the room, cursing as she undresses, throwing the items haphazardly onto the floor as she made her way to the basin of water her serving girl must have brought in. “Whazzamatter?” Bellamy asks, trying to sit up and regain full faculties.

She freezes and turns to him with a frown. “You’re still in bed? It’s late afternoon. Are you okay?”

He gives her a once-over. “Are  _ you _ okay?” She was dirty and bloody again, but this time much of the blood seemed to be her own, her left arm hanging slightly limp.

“I’m fine. Just got grazed by an arrow. Would you mind getting me those bandages?” She nodded her head towards the roll of white cloth sitting on top of her trunk while she finished stripping. He noted how she kept his eyes on him, as if trying to judge whether he really was fine or not, and did his best to not tumble out of bed. He still felt drowsy and uncoordinated from the drugs. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fisa Ray gave me a sleeping draught,” Bellamy said as he brought her the bandages.

Her frown deepened. “You took one of his potions?” She set the bandages next to the basin and put her hands on his shoulders, pulling him down so she could look him straight in the eyes. “Well, your pupils don’t seem over dilated. Follow my finger with your eyes.” 

He obediently watched her finger as she waved it in front of him, amused at her concern and trying not to notice how close she was and how underdressed they both were. “I’m fine, Clarke. He’s a healer; are you saying I shouldn’t take his medicine?”

“I’m saying I wouldn’t trust him not to poison you,” she muttered. “But you seem fine.”

“Why would he poison me?” Bellamy asked, trying not to focus on her lips.

He noted the light blush spread across her cheeks. “Well, you’ve gotten into my bed, a feat he’s been trying to achieve for years.”

“But we haven’t done anything,” he pointed out.

Clarke snorted. “Bellamy, you do know you’re a cuddler, right?” At his questioning glance she said, “Every morning I’ve had to wriggle out of your arms to get out of bed.”

“What? No! I don’t believe you. How would I manage to sleep through that?” Bellamy had to admit that when in his own bed, he could be a cuddler, often finding himself waking up with Little C curled up by his chest when she’s had a nightmare. But he could have sworn he stayed on his side of the bed these past couple nights. 

“You tell me,” Clarke said, with a slight smile. “It’s not like I’m particularly quiet in the mornings.”

He had the brief image of him being the cause of her being loud in the mornings. She was so close. All he had to do was lean down just an inch and kiss her. For a moment it seemed like electricity was coursing between them. He took a step back before he could do something he’d regret. “We should clean your arm. Don’t want it to get infected.”

“Right.” She moved back to the basin, all business. She quickly washed while Bellamy turned around and went to grab a shirt. “Would you mind helping me wrap it? I could do it on my own, but it’s awkward to do one-handed.”

“Of course.” She moved to take a seat on the bed and he met her there, taking a seat beside her. She handed him the cloth and he took it and examined her arm. It didn’t look as bad as he first thought, now that the excess dirt and blood was cleaned off. He noted how the hair on her arm was standing on end, skin prickled with goosebumps despite it the warm air around them. He started to wind the white cloth around her arm gently, watched as the first couple layers stained with red. “That’s not too tight, is it?”

“No,” she answered, looking up at him with her large blue eyes.

He was too aware of her presence. He didn’t even need to look at her to sense her every movement, her slight shifts in position, her shallow breathing. “How–” he cleared his throat, “How was today’s battle? Other than a failure to dodge in time.”

“I’ll have you know that I dodged in plenty of time,” she said heatedly. “I managed to miss a spear to the chest, thank you very much.”

“Tell me a story,” Bellamy asked suddenly.

“What?” she asked, taken aback.

“Tell me a story. I’m sure you’ve had other death-defying feats. Tell me about this scar, for instance.” He brushed his fingers across a pale silver line by her throat.

“There are so many stories told about me,” Clarke complained. “Tell me one of yours instead. I haven’t heard one for a while.”

“There are stories about me?”

“Of course there are. You’re Belomi Blake, the king of two kingdoms.”

Bellamy paused. “I’m what?”

“Surely you’ve heard?” Clarke teased. “You have charge of both the Skaikru and the Trigedakru.”

“I’m not in charge of anyone,” Bellamy protested. “I can barely convince the Council to do give my people a day off!”

“Belomi the Beloved, champion of the people,” she said in a sing-song voice.

“Now you’re just making things up.”

“Tell me the one when you went to the ocean to meet the Floukru and saved the heda’s daughter from drowning, despite not knowing how to swim yourself.” She grinned. “Is it true it was love at first sight?”

“Peake was twelve!” he said horrified. “No!” Clarke laughed at the look on his face. “That’s not what happened at all! Oh my god, is that really what they’re saying? Clarke, stop laughing, this is serious!”

“Tell me the story then. Or the one where you fought off a bear.”

“I don’t think I know that one.” He went back to wrapping her arm, finishing quickly and tucking in the edges. He ran his hand over her arm one last time, taking advantage of the opportunity to touch her. “I don’t believe that they’re telling such stories about me. I don’t do anything, I’m not story material.”

“You’re not very believing this evening, are you?” She shook her head with a small smile.

“Well, you’re saying unbelievable things.” 

“What if I said I missed you?”

He looked at her, meeting her eyes. “I could believe that.” He had certainly missed her.

“What if I said I was glad to see you?”

“I could also believe that.”

“What if I said I wanted to kiss you?”

His heart stopped in his chest. Maybe Ray had poisoned him and this was all a hallucination. “That would be too good to be true,” he said. “I don’t think I’d believe it.”

“Maybe some proof would help with that.” She turned to face him and Bellamy helped her straddle him, his hands on her hips. She leaned down and kissed him. He couldn’t believe this was happening. But he wouldn’t let the moment go by, hallucination or not. His time with Clarke was limited, she’d leave him after this, go back to the cold North to fight for (fight with) Lexa. He had to make it so she would never forget him, would miss him more than ever. He pulled her closer, kissed her harder.

Someone cleared their throat by the door and Bellamy groaned as Clarke pulled away from him. No, not now. Out of all the possible times to be interrupted, why now? “Heda, the sun is setting,” came Lacha’s voice from the outer room. “You have an appointment with Raven on the radio soon.”

“We’ll be right there,” Clarke called out in response, already heading to the trunk for a fresh set of clothes while Bellamy just sat on the bed a moment longer, dazed. She tossed him a set of clothes and they drew him out of his reverie as they hit him. He quickly pulled them on and followed her out of the room. Lacha’s face gave away nothing as Clarke passed her but she gave Bellamy a wink before following him out of the tent.

When they reached the radio, Raven was already broadcasting, chatting with Tanner. She was complaining about the “little monkey” Monroe had offed on her. “Luckily she’s tiny so I’ve been getting her to crawl into places I can’t reach‒”

“Raven! You better not be talking about Little C,” Bellamy said, grabbing the radio’s microphone.

“No, I’m talking about the other monkey Monroe shares with the class,” Raven replied. “She’s fine, you know I wouldn’t put her in danger. Hey, if you’re there is your better half around too?”

Clarke smirked. “The better half is here and speaking.” Tanner offered her his seat and she took control of the radio. “So, what do you think? Can you re-route the acid fog to the tunnels?”

“No, because those pipes don’t have service shafts,” Raven said. Clarke sighed. “But what I  _ can  _ do is knock holes in them at the point where the pipes leave the bunker so it’ll flood the lower levels. Monty’s been working with me on the fog, and he says it should find its way into the tunnels. It shouldn’t be too dangerous if we shut off the air on the exposed levels. There’s a few other technicalities but the biggest problem will be convincing the Council to allow it and evacuate those floors.”

“We can handle that,” Clarke said. “When do you think you can get it done?”

“Within a couple days,” Raven replied. “Sooner if Monkeywrench behaves. Just wait until you meet her, Clarke. She’ll charm the heart out of you within five minutes.”

Clarke shook her head. “Goufas and I don’t get along.”

Raven snorted. “As if you didn’t herd a gaggle of them when we all first landed.”

“Raven, are you sitting on the Council? Or should I talk to Miller about how to convince the other members that this is necessary?” Bellamy asked. “Sorry I’m not there to help, I know they’re a bunch of asses.” 

“I got this covered, Blake. At this point I think they’d agree to almost anything. I’m glad Clarke made it here with reinforcements. I’d hate to think of what would remain of us if we had to wait another month.”

“Happy to be here too,” Clarke said. “I’ll continue to work on getting the Azgedakru into the tunnels and keeping them there. Also, I’ve word that one of my teams has reached and secured the peak. They’ve started work on cleaning things up up there but if you want to send someone who actually knows what they’re doing, that could be better.”

“Noted. I’ll pass that on. Clarke, how are you?” The last sentence was rushed, as if she could no longer hold it in.

“I’m fine. How’re your leg?” she asked sincerely.

“As lame as ever.” There was a note of bitterness in the mechanic’s voice. “But it’s not holding me back. Your mom’s set me up with a workshop and I’ve got claim to all the materials I can get my hands on. I’m doing well.” There’s a beat before she says, “Please tell me you’ll be coming home after this. We need you here.”

“This isn’t my home,” Clarke said, and Bellamy felt his heart sink. He knew she wasn’t going to stay but hearing her say it still hurt. Behind them Tanner huffed and went to his cot to sulk.

“Maybe not, but Bellamy is,” Raven said. “Think about it. If not for us, then for Bellamy. He needs his better half around.” He felt his face heat up and he took the mic from Clarke.

“Raven,” he said warningly, “I’m fine. Don’t try pressuring Clarke into doing something she doesn’t want to.”

“I’m trying to do you a favour, numbskull.”

“I don’t need favours like that.”

Clarke took the microphone back. “I’ll think about it,” she said, surprising Bellamy, who had expected another protestation. “Keep in touch, let us know when to expect the fog. Over and out.”

“Will do, fearless leader,” the radio crackled. “Over and out.”

After a moment of relaxing silent in her seat, Clarke led them back to her tent for dinner. On the way they passed bonfires that her warriors were gathered around. Some of them waved and called out for her to join them but she simply waved back and continued on, Lacha shouting pleasantly back to a couple of them in the accented trigedasleng he was coming to associate with the Grounders from further north. He got curious looks from those who saw him walking with their Commander. Clarke pretended not to notice but their pace picked up until they reached her tent. The evening meal was already set out for them on the table and they took the same seats as they had the previous night. The mood couldn’t have been more different though. Instead of cold silence, the three of them laughed and chatted. Bellamy learned that Lacha had a dry sense of humor and that she had bested five other warriors for the position of Clarke’s second. Bellamy told stories of domestic life back at Camp Jaha, of Monty and Jasper’s shenanigans. Clarke remained closed off but kept the conversation going, asking questions, much the same as she always was. The serving girl came to take away the leftover dishes and brought in wine for them to drink with sweet cakes as they once again poured over the maps, discussing the next day’s attacks. Clarke was going to split her army into fifths, to try to surround and chase the Azegeda further into the tunnels. “Most of the ground work has already been done. Really we’re just setting perimeters,” she remarked. “You’ll see tomorrow, if you don’t sleep in again.”

A guard announced a visitor as the candles were burning low and Lacha put down her goblet. “I’ll take care of it on my way out. I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. Her and Clarke clasped hands before she left for the night. Bellamy heard her and whomever the visitor was chat as they walked away from the tent.

“It is getting late,” he said, stretching. “Fisa Ray said that I should be re-bandaged. He may be over-”

“Fisa Ray is not coming over tonight,” Clarke interrupted him. “And I thought we’ve been over this: I can do the job just fine.”

“Um, yes, yes you can.” Bellamy stumbled over his words, suddenly aware that it was once again just the two of them in the tent. He felt awkward while at the same time he wanted nothing more than to kiss that smirk off her face.

“Come on, take off your shirt,” she said, walking into the bedroom, “I’ve got some salve left in here somewhere and I know there’s still some bandages.” He obediently followed her, pulling his shirt over his head. Taking a seat on the bed, he folded his shirt absentmindedly and set it aside, watching her as she gathered the supplies and joined him, crawling up behind him on the bed. “This will probably be cold,” she warned before starting to apply the salve. He couldn’t help but curse at the sudden chill and she laughed. The touch of her hands soon warmed his skin back up though and she kneaded his shoulders gently, working out all the tension without damaging the healing scabs. He let out a contented little moan. When she bandaged him, reaching around him in an embrace to move the roll from one hand to another, he missed the skin-on-skin contact, now blocked by the building layers of cloth, but she’d sometimes let her hands drift. She finished, tucking and weaving the end within the other folds. “There,” she said, but left her hand resting on his shoulder. He turned to face her, and reached out to cup her face in his hand, brushing his thumb lightly over her cheekbone. For a moment their eyes held each other’s, sizing each other up, and then Clarke surged forward, Bellamy meeting her halfway. Then it was all lips and hands and touch and he was overwhelmed by her scent and her taste and the feel of her skin and her and her and her and she was with him and he was with her and they were together, together they were one, and this was all he wanted, all he had been wanting, and she wanted him, she was with him, this was all he could ever hope for, all he would ever hope for.

They fall asleep curled together in the middle of the bed.

 

T he next morning came too early for Bellamy. Clarke rose before the sun and woke him with a chaste kiss. He wished this was something he could get used to, something that wouldn’t end as soon as the Azgedakru were taken care of. He pulled her close to him in an embrace, burying his face in her neck.

“Come on, Bell,” she said exasperatedly. “I need to be ready to lead the troops.” He reluctantly released her and watched her go about her morning routine, strapping on weapons and applying war paint to her face. “You should really get a move on if you’re planning on joining me.” She tossed him a change of clothes and gestured towards a clean towel by the fresh basin of water. He didn’t want to get left behind again so he got moving. They met Lacha in the main room of the tent where she was waiting for them and who then let in a handful of Clarke’s other lieutenants so the day’s plans could all be reviewed one last time. Bellamy got a quick introduction as the Skaikru heda on the ground. “He’ll be with me,” she said, “Lacha will lead the eastward division with Skoll.” There was an easy acceptance to the change, which surprised Bellamy. Before calling an end to the meeting, Clarke told them, “Remember, the goal is containment,” and then they all filed out of the tent to gather and lead their warriors onto the day’s battlefields.

Bellamy stuck to Clarke’s side, following her first to an armory, where she saw him outfitted with some armor and weaponry. He picked out a wicked looking set of knives, tucking them in small sheathes he belted all over his body for easy access, but she insisted on him having a more sizeable blade, so he also strapped on a large sword. It went without question that the guns from the bunker were out of consideration. That was a different level of warfare that neither of them wanted to participate in. 

He then followed her to the stables and she led him over to a brown horse. “You can use Skavi. He’s a good boy. Here, give him a carrot and he’ll do you well. You do know how to ride, don’t you?”

He took a carrot from the stable boy that Clarke had summoned with a hand wave and gingerly offered it to the large beast. “I do,” Bellamy said. He didn’t add that he hated doing so. They used horses most often as workbeasts to drag wagons, only using them for transport when situations caused speed to be a necessity or for diplomatic missions. Bellamy admitted that they were efficient and useful, but he prefered using his own two feet, not fully trusting something with a mind of its own to take him places. Riding one into battle sounded like a terrible idea.

She laughed at the look on his face, obviously able to tell his feelings on the matter anyways. “You’ll be fine. Skavi is good friends with my Luka, and will stick right by my side.” She gestured towards a beautiful white stallion.

They mounted up and rode off to the head of the regiment Clarke was in charge of. She gave a rousing speech and off they went. It took an hour and a half worth’s of trudging to get meet with Tamul’s contingent that had been left to keep an eye on the Azgedakru at this tunnel. After consulting, Clarke sent out the scouts as the first wave, and then had her people thin out and join Tamul’s, circling around, a feat that was only possible due to the large number of warriors she had with her. By that time, the scouts had returned and reported back the location of the Azgedakru. Clarke then had the noose tighten. Bellamy heard the sounds of fighting coming from off to the left, where scouts had reported a hunting party of Azgedakru could be found. The noise put Bellamy on edge and he could feel the adrenaline start to pump through his veins. He looked over at Clarke, who looked a right threat on her horse, a scowl replacing the light smile that had graced it while the two of them traded stories on the trek over. She was calm and confident, and her sturdy assuredness stilled his skittishness.

And then, they were suddenly under attack. Arrows flew at them and the army charged forward. There was shouting and sprays of blood. Those on horses stayed in the rear, the large animals meant more for show than for practicality in the forest terrain. Not to say they were safe. They made great targets and the tide of battle did bring them within reach of enemies. Bellamy’s sword got wrenched away from him and he didn’t want to lose all of his daggers by throwing them, although he did manage to take out a couple bowmen that were aiming at Clarke. He grew frustrated by being weaponless other than his tank of a horse, who, despite his friendliness back at camp, seemed to have gotten into the spirit of things and took pleasure in biting and stomping on those who ventured too close. 

When the opportunity presented itself, instead of ducking out of the way of a low tree limb, he pulled himself up onto it. Skavi would be fine on his own and barely seemed to notice him missing, trying to glance back once to see where the missing weight went before continuing on his merry rampage. He climbed higher into the tree to have access to the branches of others and gracefully went leaping from limb to limb above the battlefield. As he got closer to his goal of the bowmen, several started to focus their efforts on dropping him. He heard Clarke’s shout of rage behind him and he made the rookie mistake of glancing back, causing him to misstep and fall out of the tree he was in. 

Bellamy landed roughly, breath knocked out of him as he hit the ground several feet from the bowmen. Immediately he was under attack and he couldn’t help but grin. He could do close combat. He slid two daggers from their sheaths and managed to slit the first man’s throat and stumble up to a crouch. They didn’t give him a chance to get up and a foot to his backside sent him tumbling forward. He was able to turn it into a roll but had to drop his knives or lose some fingers. Luckily, the momentum gave him the chance to get fully to his feet and he grabbed an arrow out of the hand of a nearby bowman and stabbed it upwards into her throat before he was put back on his guard by a charging warrior with a mace. Once again he was knocked off his feet. Quickly springing up, he threw a few measured punches, forcing his opponent back, giving him time to pull another dagger from where his boot and then they danced. Occasionally interrupted by other opponents but ultimately finding their way back to each other, Bellamy drew thin red lines attempting to disable limbs and the northerner swung his heavy-headed blunt weapon to crush bone. As exhilarating as the footwork was, he found himself tiring. The past few days may have been restorative, but not, he was finding, as rejuvenating as he perhaps needed. He finally made it past the warrior’s guard and stabbed in the gut upwards before quickly reversing the blade movement, spilling guts everywhere. 

The sound of a deep-throated horn echoed over the battlefield. Bellamy didn’t know whose it was, he didn’t know whether that was the clarion call of the Trigedakru or of the Azgedakru. He freed himself from his dying and helpless opponent, knife up on guard, and slipped backwards a step on the blood-covered ground. Glancing around, it seemed like the bowmen were retreating, a line of northern warriors now between them and Bellamy.

“Zog raun! Zog raun!” The shout sounded like Clarke, although he couldn’t be sure. “Flosh em klin!”

“Jus drein jus daun!” The call came from all around him, weapons joined raised voices. The last word morphed into a war cry, and Bellamy joined the charge, a final assault on the Azgedakru fleeing to the safety of the tunnel, picking up a sword from among the fallen. They mowed down Northerners, continuing forward, the cacophony of battle surrounding them, engulfing them, until, in sight of the mouth of the tunnel, they met with a wall of arrows. The charge broke, circling around, stalking, melting behind the cover of the trees. 

As soon as it had begun, the fight was over. Warriors went around checking on the dead and wounded, hurrying the way for those whose fights were over and helping those who still had the possibility of a life reach a healer. Warriors with blow darts and other long-range weapons positioned themselves in the trees. It was clear to Bellamy that everyone had been pre-designated an after-battle task, that the bloodbath was just the beginning of their workday. They were a well-oiled machine. Bellamy felt like a cog in that machine, out of place, in the way. He wished he had talked with Clarke about the technicalities of after the fight. Although, he knew that he wasn’t meant to have fought in the battle as he had, should have stayed by her side, which is where he wanted to be now.

It wasn’t too hard to find her. She was still perched on her horse, although she was leaning over to talk with Tamul, who had dismounted. The space around them was clear, the flow of movement never touching them. Now and then someone would approach, knuckle to forehead in respect, to ask a question before backing away, never quite coming close. She didn’t look worse for wear. Dirty, yes. Tired, yes. But not as bloody as she had come home the past couple evenings and exhaustion was not riding her shoulders. She glanced his way while he was approaching and raised a cool eyebrow before turning back to Tamul, who then looked his way, nodded, and made a hand gesture. By the time he reached them, someone had brought Skavi.

“Mount up,” Clarke told him. “I need to check on the progress at the other tunnels. Are you able to join me or do you need to be fixed up?” She looked him over, taking stock, noting which blood splatters he was covered in were his own (thankfully not many).

He felt his hackles rise at the measuring look Tamul was giving him. He was not some weak, freshly-blooded, impulsive goufa who didn’t know what he was doing. “I’m fine,” Bellamy replied, trying to keep his tone level. “I’ll be at your side.” The servant who brought his horse lent him a hand and he mounted. He hated that he needed help, he’d seen some Grounders leap up onto their steeds with no problem, but at least decorum dictated that help must be offered out of respect so his lack of ability wasn’t seen as a weakness.

“Good.” She turned back to Tamul as he got onto Skavi. “Expect a messenger by morning with further instructions. You know what to do until then.” Tamul nodded and, knuckle to forehead, backed away and left. 

Now that it was just the two of them, Bellamy noticed the polite but icy demeanor of the heda towards him. As they left the make-shift camp springing up behind them, a handful of warriors falling into line behind them, he tried to talk to her but was met with icy silence and a stony look. He was growing frustrated and had given up by the time they reached the next tunnel westward. The contingent leader and her second came to report and Clarke warmed up during the brief chat so that when they moved on, he expected his attempts for conversation to be successful. He was mistaken, as she turned sullen again once they moved on. After their last check-in, which was with Skol and Lacha, who had been wildly successful judging by the Azgedakru bodies littering the ground and Lacha’s proud demeanor, Clarke muttered, “You’d make a terrible second.”

Bellamy, tired and worn out from the battle, the adrenaline having filtered out of his blood hours ago, and frustrated by having her so close and yet so far away, bristled at the comparison to Lacha. “Good thing I’m not your second then, Princess,” he snapped. “Stars above, I’m sorry I left your side for a minute!”

“Quiet, not here,” Clarke tried to hush him, gesturing back towards the regiment behind them. “Act like a mature adult for once today.”

“Excuse me?” Bellamy couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re the one giving me the silent treatment!”

Apparently neither of them could act like mature adults. And so when they entered the main camp, other warriors had gathered at the outposts to see what the fuss was about, as the Wanheda and the Skaikru heda were shouting at each other at the top of their lungs. They didn’t stop arguing as their guard was dismissed. They didn’t stop arguing as they dismounted and handed off their horses to the stablehands. They didn’t stop arguing as they made their way into Clarke’s tent where two water basins were waiting for them to wash. They didn’t stop arguing as Fisa Ray entered and attempted to attend to their wounds. 

(“Daughter of the sun, I beg you, would you please calm your thrumming heart and still your arms, I am trying to check the depth of this wound!” The healer quickly grew frustrated himself. “Son of the moon, please quiet your words, or at least do not shout in my ear.” He left the tent muttering about headstrong hedas under his breath.)

The shouts were suddenly cut off by the entrance of a tan young woman, her intricately braided hair cascading off her shoulders and weaving through the back of her shirt to keep it under tight control. “Clarke!” she shouted as she entered, causing the other two to fall into silence, caught off guard by someone else daring to yell at them. “Why the hell didn’t you joken tell me that my bro was here!”

“O?” Bellamy questioned, taking a good look at her. Years had passed since she had left. She was no longer the claustrophobic teenager who fell from the sky and fought to find her place in the world. She had found it. “Look at you! Wait until Lincoln sees you!” She had grown taller, almost as tall as him, he discovered as he swept her up into a hug, but she was still able to tuck her head under his chin. After a moment she fought the embrace so she could take a look at him.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I heard that you were half dead when they brought you in. Kis said that you got caught in the acid rain.” She forcibly turned him around to take a look at his bare back and hissed.

“Hey, hey now, I’m fine,” Bellamy assured her. “What are you doing here? Clarke said you were at the peak.”

“I was,” Octavia said, throwing Clarke a dirty look. “For all of sintaim. There’s no Azgedakru that far up the maunde. It was easy to secure and I left some of my kru there to guard the techs.” She turned to the blonde, who suddenly had two angry Blakes glaring at her. “Now why the hell did I have to hear about my bro being here from setnes talking about the two of you shouting at each other only to find out he’s been here for days without you jokken telling me?!”

“You didn’t need to be distracted,” Clarke said defensively. “He was in rough shape and there was nothing you could do about it, you would have worried and it would have thrown you off your game.”

“You lied to me?” Bellamy exclaimed, his gut twisting at the realization. “I can’t believe it, you lied straight to my face!”

“You would have asked to see her,” Clarke said, “she couldn’t know.”

“Bullshit!” Octavia spat. “You just like keeping me in the dark, don’t you? Does it give you pleasure to watch the rest of us walk about in ignorance as you sit on your throne of manipulation, oh great Wanheda?”

“Don’t call me that, Octavia,” Clarke said warningly.

“Oh, that’s right, you hate the title, don’t you? It reminds you of what we all know you are. Your lover was killed for massacring a village but you, oh you, you’re  _ lauded  _ for it, you’re  _ praised  _ for how you wipe out entire towns.”

“Get out.” Clarke had gone hard, Bellamy had never seen her so closed off, her voice dark and menacing. “Both of you. Get out of my tent  _ now. _ ”

Bellamy was torn between wanting to comfort her, because she was obviously not okay, and wanting to get the hell out of there before she followed through on the unspoken threat. Octavia solved this predicament, raising her chin high, saying, “Come on, Bell, let’s get out of here. I’ll introduce you to all the  _ nice _ people.” She took him by the arm and practically dragged him out. He tossed a look behind him to see Clarke fuming darkly. 

Lacha was at the main door of the tent, waiting. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her,” she told Bellamy, stretching and rolling her shoulders. “She just needs a good spar.”  _ I could’ve done that _ , he thought as O continued to whisk him away (she, too, probably needed a spar to get some energy out but he was too tired).

His sister dragged him to a roaring campfire, where she introduced him to her comrades, each doing a knuckled salute before inviting him to join them. Her second (and just think of that, Octavia had her own second, how the world had progressed) threw him a spare shirt. “Cover up those scars, manflesh,” he said with a wink, “you’ll cause a riot.” 

O gave the young man a gentle shove. “Keep your hands off my bro, Bosk. Don’t mind him, Bell, he’ll hit on anything that moves.”

“I have standards!” Bosk protested. “Easy on the eyes, good in the sack. And your brother is definitely the first and I suspect the second.” 

“You’ll never find out,” Bellamy replied, quickly pulling on the shirt, causing the group to laugh.

O rolled her eyes and passed a bowl of broth to Bellamy. “So tell me, how’s Lincoln?”

“Yes, tell us, how is that gorgeous hunk of a hef?” Bosk asked with a wide grin.

“He’s good,” Bellamy answered, taking a sip of soup. “He made it into the mountain before the Azgedakru arrived, so he’s safe. Probably bristling to get out.”

“How come you’re not down there? Did the Council really send you as part of a guerilla force?” she asked.

“Bad luck,” he said with a shake of his head. “We didn’t get the message that the Northerners had arrived because our coms were damaged in a hunt. Jandee’s kru was assigned to stay outside to do hit and runs.”

O nodded. “We met up with his kru first day here. They managed to cross the river before the mountain’s breath could get them.”

“I know, Clarke told me. She said she assigned them to Indra who’s over at the southwest tunnel. Although who knows if that’s even true.” He scowled. How much had Clarke kept from him? How much had she blatantly lied about, like she had with Octavia?

“It’s true,” Bosk broke in, “we saw them the other day when we swung by the souwes camp to pick up Asher on the way up to the peak.” Octavia nodded in confirmation. 

Well, at least that was one truth told. “How’d they look?” Bellamy asked.

“They looked ku,” O assured him. “Fine fighting condition.”

“Fine is right.” Bosk whistled. “Are all you southerners so fanas? I’m planning to taking that Natt to bed when that kru rejoins the main contingent.”

Bellamy snorted. “Good luck with that. She’s got a man already.”

“Maybe, but she hasn’t had this one,” Bosk said with a grin, gesturing down the  length of his body.

“I’m pretty sure Farfax would crush you to dust if you bothered Natt,” Bell said, finishing off the soup.

Bosk stretched lazily. “I wouldn’t worry about it; I can hold my own.”

Bell raised an eyebrow at O. How had she ended up with this character? “How’d you do against Lincoln?” he asked.

“Haven’t had to,” Bosk answered.

“He’s my  _ second _ ,” Octavia said. “I can take him myself. Lincoln knows this.”

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” Bosk added, lazily throwing an arm over her shoulder and giving her a slight squeeze. “I know this.” 

“Down boy,” she said, rolling her eyes again and shrugging away. “This is my brother, not a threat. Although he did once hang a guy for kissing me.” 

Bosk whistled and raised his hands in front of him in surrender. “Don’t worry, bossman. Hands off.”

“That’s not true,” Bellamy protested. “It was more the betrayal of my trust and disobeying orders.”

“Sure it was, Bell.” She took the empty bowl out of his hands and gave it to another of her comrades who was collecting the dishes. “Now, I heard that Clarke kept you on a short string. Want to see the rest of the camp?”

“I’d love to.” 

The rest of the day was spent with O showing him around the camp, mostly empty now, Bosk a step behind them the whole way. (“Just the guerilla bands, the fixas, and a guard regiment is left, everyone else was sent off for tunnel duty,” she explained.) Bellamy was surprised by the sheer size of the camp and what it meant for the number of warriors Clarke brought with her. (When he asked O about what Lexa thought about sending so many forces away from the Northern Front, she snorted. “As if she could stop the Wanheda from gathering troops.”) By the time night had fallen, he had gained a pretty good idea of the operation. 

Sheepishly, he asked O if he could crash with her since he didn’t really have a bed (“Hah, I knew it!”) and she complied, sending Bosk to prepare an extra cot for him. It was nice to bunk down in a tent filled with others; it reminded him of his cabin back at Camp Jaha. Although he couldn’t help but regret not having another chance to spend the night with Clarke. But it was for the best, he tried to convince himself as he laid in the dark, adjusting to the sounds of the strangers around him. Clarke had left and she had changed and she had  _ lied  _ to him. After all they had been through together, she didn’t  _ trust _ him and that stung more than anything. She’d let him come inside of her but she wouldn’t tell him the truth. O had said she was a manipulator. Was this all just some trick? Some manipulation? Was he just some cog in her master plan? He couldn’t image what that plan would be, what use sleeping with him would be. Maybe cement his goodwill? It sounded like she was starting to have the power to overthrow Lexa. Was she planning on making a move against the Heda and wanted to be sure that she’d have the Skaikru behind her? Didn’t she know she’d always have the Skaikru to back her? He fell asleep to these whirling, traitorous thoughts, which led to much tossing and turning throughout the night (much to his back’s distress).

He spent the next couple days with Octavia and her kru, checking in now and then on his people who were swiftly healing and with Raven and Miller on the radio, but wanting to soak up as much of his sister as he could, knowing that, like Clarke, she too would be gone once the Azgedakru were taken care of. He didn’t see much of the blonde, neither of them seeking each other out, staying out of each other’s ways. He did see Lacha now and then, making her way through camp, assumedly on some errand for her heda. They met each other’s glance once and she rolled her eyes with a lift of brow. More in camaraderie than in exasperation at him, he interpreted the look, although he wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. (He knew he was being childish, that he should go talk to Clarke, give her the chance to explain. But he wanted her to come seek him out, to apologize and offer explanation on her own, without his prompting.) It was nice being with Octavia, to see how much she had grown. He could still spot the little O that he helped raise, who used to beg him for stories and would gobble down food faster than he’s think possible. He helped arrange one evening on the radio so she could tell Little C her bedtime story after they gushed to each other about their days (Little C was so proud about becoming Raven’s “Monkeywrench” but was willing to keep silent to listen to O talk about keeping Bell busy making flower chains).

He was confident that he got word first from Raven that she had finished her work and the next day would be the final strike, getting the update during his daily chat with her and Miller. That evening Lacha came to their campfire to fetch him and O. “The heda requests the leaders’ presence to discuss tomorrow’s plans,” she told them.

“Finally,” Octavia said, stretching, her dancing eyes betraying her excitement to have the chance to finally be doing something again. Her energetic party had been growing restless and she was no different. “Come on, Bell, let's go see your girlfriend.”

Octavia led the way, practically skipping, Lacha and Bellamy following behind, both wearing small smiles of amusement.

“How is she?” Bellamy asked the second.

She rolled her eyes. “A terror to behold. She needs to see some action.” Lacha gave him a sidelong look. “Of any sort. She's quite the sparring partner when she's in this sort of mood.”

“Oh? Does it happen often?” He asked casually.

“I was told you knew her well? You should know how much she hates to be wrong.”

“You think she was wrong?”

“No,” Lacha replied easily. “But you have her thinking she is.” A moment of silence passed between them and then she said, “Shall I tell you a story, heda Belomi? Of the future.” Curious, he gestured for her to continue. “We defeat the Azgeda here. She leads our army back to the North and she's still upset. I make a short detour to come back here and kill you. And that is the end of you.” 

Despite her casual tone, her eyes were deadly serious. “That sounds more like a threat than a story,” he said, trying to match her casual tone.

“The two are the same if the warning is heeded,” she replied. They had reached Clarke's tent. “Let's keep it a story.” She gave him a quick wink before heading in, taking her place beside Clarke at the head of the table.

They all milled about the room for a while, waiting for the other generals to arrive, looking over the map for updates on any movement. Bellamy kept trying to catch Clarke’s eye but she was resolutely not looking at him, focusing on a light conversation with Skol. When Lacha nudged her once the last person had filtered in, she turned to face the whole gathering. Everyone immediately came to attention.

“The Skaikru have reworked the mountain’s breath to flood the tunnels,” she told them. “This will happen tomorrow on my signal. You are all to be in position by the time the sun reaches the top of the trees. The Azgedakru will choke on the very air they breathe. They will try to leave the tunnels, where they’ll meet volleys from our archers. Your goal is to keep them from making it out of the tunnels at all. Failing this, they cannot be allowed to breach our lines. They will try to fight through our lines of fifteen gonas deep. They will be fighting for their lives. We all know how desperate soldiers can get. And they are not a stupid people. You are not to underestimate them. Do not allow them to escape. Do not accept surrenders. They came here to ravage our home, to kill our families. They drove our people to where the sun cannot reach them. They drove our people to where they cannot see the stars. They drove our people under the ground with the intention of driving them into the graves. Tomorrow they will find that they have merely driven themselves into their own graves!” There was a roar of approval from the gathering, Grounders howling and clapping. Next to him, Octavia was stomping and emitting a warcry. Bellamy himself was carried away by the energy of the crowd and join in the commotion. After it died down, the commander continued. “Skol, Lacha will accompany you again tomorrow. Octavia, I want your party to pick up Jandee’s and cover the base of the mountain in case any make it free and need picking off. The rest of you know your positions. Tomorrow is the day we have been waiting for. Tomorrow we will wipe this Azgeda scum off the face of the planet. Heda Bellamy, I would like a word with you in private. The rest of you are dismissed.” The tent emptied out, everyone talking excitedly to each other about what the next day had in store. Octavia was hesitant to leave Bellamy’s side but Clarke repeated, “In  _ private _ , please,” and, after a nod of assent from Bell, O left, throwing the heda a scowl. Lacha was the last to leave after making sure everyone else was shown out. He could hear her taking position outside the closed flap of the tent, low sounds of murmuring between her and the guard.

Now that they were alone, Clarke finally looked at him and Bellamy also used the moment of silence between them to look her over. With no one else around, her commanding spirit seemed to have evaporated. She looked exhausted, worn out; there was darkness under her eyes that wasn’t part of any war paint. Biting her lip, her gaze kept darting between him and everything else in the room. “I’m sorry,” she admittedly suddenly, shattering the silence.

Finally, Bellamy thought. If only it hadn’t taken her so long. “And what, exactly, are you apologizing for?”

“Couldn’t let me off easy, could you?” She let out a sharp laugh, and ran a hand through her hair. “For lying to you. I shouldn’t have told you that Octavia wasn’t here.  And I’m sorry for my treatment of you the other day after the battle. I was… You scared me. I’ve grown used to… being in control. And when you left my side, you left my reach. I couldn’t keep you safe. I wanted to keep you safe. My people almost killed you and I could fix that but then I almost saw the enemy kill you and that is not something I could fix.” She took a deep breath.

“If you need forgiveness, I'll give that to you,” he said, with a small smile.

She let out another short, mirthless laugh and shook her head. “What I need, Bellamy Blake, is you.” Clarke looked up at him earnestly.

He felt his heart pound and the world stopped spinning. He had never expected a confession of this magnitude from her. He realized that he hadn’t replied, that the silence had returned, that she was starting to shrink in on herself as the moment stretched longer. The smile he offered her now was soft, gentle, as if coaxing a wounded animal. “You can have that too.” Bellamy slowly closed the distance between them and she hesitantly reached out to him. He pulled her to him and she buried her face in his chest. She muttered something that was muffled by his shirt. “What was that?”

Clarke looked up at him. “Can I come home?” Her voice was small.

“This isn’t your home,” Bellamy said, echoing her own words.

“No,” she admitted. “But Raven was right. You are.”

“Yes.” The words couldn’t leave his mouth fast enough. “Yes, please come home. I would love for you to stay. With me. Please, yes. But… can you? I mean, it sounds like you’re Lexa’s right hand woman.”

“She’s not expecting me to come back and she’d rather I fade into retirement anyways,” Clarke replied. “Lacha’s been trained to replace me. She’ll do well.”

“But she’s not you,” Bellamy pointed out. 

“Not everyone can have experience in genocide. But Lacha is a good leader and cares about her people, in addition to having served as my second. They will follow her home. The war should be over soon anyways. Word had it that she was closing in on the Ice Queen and this loss will be a huge blow.”

“Then, yes, if you can, everyone would love it if you stayed, me especially.”

“Thank you.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Needless to say, he did not go back to his cot in Octavia’s party’s tent, staying with Clarke that night instead.

 

The next day was a bloodbath. Bellamy had accompanied Clarke to the tunnel they had taken with Tamul and the three of them sat mounted on their horses towards the back of the lines to oversee the action. Clarke made a hand gesture towards a tree, presumably where a camera was located so Raven would pick up the signal. The warriors waited, tense, and then bloodcurdling, almost otherworldly screams started to be heard coming from the tunnels. The cries grew louder and the tunnel started to spit Azgedakru, who were met with waves of arrows, cut down as soon as they stepped foot outside. Despite the concerns voiced the other day, none of them had makeshift shields, too panicked fleeing from the acid fog. None of them even made it to the first line of Grounders who were ready for the chance to slaughter. When Bellamy looked over at Clarke beside him, she was watching intently, stiff and serious. An Azgedakru gona shouted surrender and she didn’t even blink as they shot him down. The wails died down and after enough time had passed for them to consider it safe, Tamul led a small party to make sure all the Azgedakru were dead and provide mercy killings when occasion called. 

The sun was starting to set by the time the party returned and the whole time Clarke (and her people followed her example) did not move from position. Upon the party’s return, all the warriors broke out in cheers of their success and they chanted Wanheda’’s praises as she led them back to camp, where they met with the other regiments. A feast had been prepared and everyone sat together in three bisecting circles to eat (Bellamy learned that the circles were meant to symbolize the three leaders of their success in the war: the Commander, the Wanheda, and Death). Energy was high and success was on the tongue of all. All except for Clarke, who sat quietly and kept to herself, Lacha sitting on her one side and Bellamy on the left, each trying to cheer her up to no avail.

Part of the festivities was storytelling. The most talented speakers were granted the honor to present their tales. All of them sung praises of the Wanheda, who had a mind of steel and a heart to match: strong and unbending. Under all the attention, Clarke smiled her appreciation and laughed as appropriate, but Bellamy could tell that it was all hollow, just a show for her people.

Before the celebrations devolved into simple drinking, Clarke made the announcement that she was not returning to the North. “I will come to your aid, my people’s aid, when you need me. But we have done well and I am no longer so very needed. Let me go. Let the Wanheda try her hand at something else. Let the Commander of Death try her hand at creating,” she told them. Murmurs broke up among the crowd, as the information was passed around the circles to those out of hearing range and there were noises of surprise and discontent. Octavia’s mouth had dropped open and she punched Bellamy on the arm repeatedly. “Lacha will lead you back to the North. You have seen her in battles alongside you and me. If she has not yet proven her worth to you, let the journey back prove it to you. Until then, celebrate, my people! We have succeeded! The Azgedakru here are no more. Blood has had blood!” The crowd repeated the toast and the drinking resumed, starting off more subdued but soon enough rising back to the original joyous chaos.

“Did you know?” Octavia demanded of Bellamy, still punching his arm. “You knew, didn’t you? You’re not acting surprised. Jok, Bellamy, how come you didn’t tell me!”

“Stop punching me, O,” he told her, rubbing his arm. “I only found out last night. But it was her news to share anyways.”

She crowed. “Congrats, Bell!” She reached over to punch Clarke in the arm. “Good choice, Clarke. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Clarke said with a roll of her eyes. She leaned against Bellamy and he wrapped an arm around her. “It’s time for me to come home.”

As soon as Clarke could leave the festivities without her presence being missed, she left, Bellamy and Lacha following after her. “No, stay, you deserve to celebrate. This is the last time you’re free from responsibilities,” she told Lacha, who merely snorted.

“I’ve always had responsibilities while under you, heda. And you need looking after. This is the last time I can attend to you. Let me do this,” Lacha requested.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Bellamy offered.

“No, you should watch. You’ll be taking over the job, won’t you?” Lacha replied. “You should know things, like how she likes her tea like water.” 

Clarke scowled and gave her a light shove. “Water would be preferable to the bitter sludge you drink,” she contended.

Lacha laughed. “Come on, let’s get today off your mind. Bet you I can beat you in the ring.”

“In your dreams,” Clarke muttered, but the three of them went to the small sparring area behind Clarke’s tent. Lacha went to fetch weapons while Clarke started stretching. “You don’t have to stick around,” she told Bellamy. “I don’t expect you to pick up a second’s responsibilities. You’re my friend, not my subordinate.”

“Lacha seems like she’s both,” Bell pointed out before agreeing, “No, I’m not your second. But I do care for you. If I can garner some tricks on how to make your life better, it’ll be worth it.”

When Lacha returned with two blades, they went at it. Bellamy was awed by their grace and speed, their movements so fast they were blurs. The two were evenly matched, dancing in step, not holding back whatsoever. If a blow did hit, there would be blood and possible maiming but metal never bit skin. When they were covered in a thin sheen of sweat, Clarke managed to disarm Lacha, knocking her down and holding her blade to her throat. Lacha knocked it aside and Clarke offered her a hand up. Springing to her feet, she demanded, “Again.” And again they went at it. And again. After the fifth bout, they were both breathing heavily. Clarke had lost the final round and winced when Lacha helped her up.

“Was that kick really necessary?” she asked. “I think you bruised my ribs.”

Lacha let out a laugh. “You shouldn’t be so slow then. You’re fine, my heda.” Bellamy followed the two of them inside the tent to Clarke’s personal quarters. The large washbowl was already filled. The two women both used it to clean and Bellamy hung back in the main partition of the tent, wanting to give them some privacy. He was surprised when he was called back in not too long after. Clarke was lying on her stomach on the bed naked and Lacha was standing over her. He hesitate at the door and Lacha rolled her eyes. “I know this’ll be tough for you, big boy, but come on over here. I need to show you how to work the tension out of her muscles.” She then proceeded to give him a quick lesson in massage. He found it hard to completely focus because when Lacha pushed right  _ here  _ or dug in right  _ there  _ Clarke kept making little moans. It was completely distracting. Lacha tried to have him try, moving his hands to where they should be, but he found himself stroking Clarke’s skin instead. Lacha smacked his hands whenever they wandered. Finally she gave up. “You two are hopeless,” she said, exasperated, and dragged him out of the room. “Come on, I’ll show you how she likes her drinks.” She gave him a crash course in which alcohols to mix together (“If you can get it sweet, that’s the best. She once traded her second favorite blade for a couple sticks of sugarcane from the Floukru, it was ridiculous.”) and how long to steep what herbs (“Kaff in the morning before breakfast but only let it sit for sixty heartbeats or else it gets too sludgy for her. Spamin for after meals to cleanse the palate. Again, sixty heartbeats is more than enough, although it’s okay to let this sit longer.”). Lacha inquired whether they had a food tester and when Bellamy said no, she suggested they get one. “She’s still the Wanheda, whether retired or not, and there’s a lot of jokkas out there who wouldn’t mind putting her in the ground. Yours wouldn’t be an easy loss for your kru either, I’m surprised you’ve been so careless.” When she had determined that there had been enough of a transferral of information, she decided to turn in for the night. “Goodnight, heda!” she called out (and there was a muffled reply from Clarke’s room) and then shot Bellamy a wink before leaving. “You go take care of her now. She should still have enough energy to have some fun tonight and she’s in a better mood.” With that, she strode out of the tent.

Bellamy rejoined Clarke in her room. She had put on some loose clothing. After cleaning and changing clothes himself, he joined her in bed, wrapping her up in his arms. She snuggled in close to him. Despite Lacha’s insinuations, the two lovers stayed like this all night after soon falling asleep, taking advantage of the opportunity to rest now, knowing that the coming days of restoration were going to be just as chaotic and exhausting as the days of battle.

The next morning they rose early. The camp was already in the early stages of packing up to move out, despite the plan to remain another couple of days to allow warriors to visit with their local kin and to allow everyone some time to recuperate before moving onto their next battle. The kitchen fires had already been stoked and burning for hours, working on a mid-day feast to celebrate the freedom of those driven under the mountain. A force of local Trigedakru and Skaikru made their way to the door of Mount Weather, to welcome them back out under the sun. Clarke, Bellamy, and Octavia were all among them, as were many of the regimental leaders of Clarke’s army. When the sun reached the second mark in the sky, the heavy, thick door groaned open. Enree and Detta were the first ones to leave, followed by a party of their warriors, weapons sheathed but visible. They came up to Clarke and Bellamy, giving them the knuckle to forehead salute in respectful gratitude, and moved on. There were shouts as a woman pushed her way through and threw herself at Enree, who spun her around with a joyful laugh. Bellamy hadn’t even known Enree had someone and felt ashamed for his ignorance. More Grounders came out, as did members of the 23, who came and swarmed around Clarke and Bellamy, overjoyed to not only see her again but to see them together. Clarke clutched tightly at Bell’s hand and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. Octavia gave a whoop as she caught sight of Lincoln and wove her way through all the other reunions to throw herself into his arms. Miller made his way over to Bellamy and the two men embraced briefly before Miller punched his shoulder, saying, “Didn’t think I was going to see you again for a minute there.” 

“Sorry for leaving you to deal with the Council on your own,” Bellamy apologized with a grin.

“From the sound of it, even with that I had an easier time than you.” His attention moved to Clarke, welcoming her back and asking if she was going to be staying long.

Bellamy was distracted from listening into their conversation by a faint familiar cry, that quickly grew louder. “Nontu, Nontu!” Little C launched herself into his arms and he hefted her up, settling her on his hip. She was getting too big for this but he’d do it for as long as he could, thankful for every moment.

“Hey there, little one. How’ve you been? Did you behave while I was gone?” he asked her with a wide smile.

“Yes, Nontu,” she said, patting his cheek patronizingly before continuing on, speaking a mile a minute, “I helped Nomo and I helped Raven and she had me crawl in small tunnels for her and she had me help give her tools while  _ she _ was in tunnels and I got to play with Monty and Jasper a lot since they didn’t have to go work in the fields and Raven made me a bracelet, look!” She thrust her arm in front of his face to show off a small band of woven wires. “She says it’s proof that I’m her monkeywrench, a very important tool,” she said proudly.

“Yes, you’re very important,” Bellamy agreed, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Want to meet someone else important?”

“Who?” Little C asked, looking around. She caught sight of Clarke looking at them, eyes wide and tinged with confusion and, Bellamy noted with some confusion himself, hurt. Little C gasped loudly. “Is that her?” she asked in a loud whisper.

Bellamy nodded and fully turned back to the blonde. “Clarke, I’d like you to meet Little Clarke, also known as Little C, Clarkey, and, apparently, Monkeywrench. Little C, this is your namesake, Clarke Griffin.”

“Hi Heda Clarke,” Little C said shyly, offering an outstretched hand and continuing formally, as if she had practiced this many times, “It’s an honor to meet you.”

Clarke looked like a salamander found under a rock but shook the tiny hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

The child beamed and buried her head in Bellamy’s shoulder in embarrassment. He felt his other shoulder punched and looked over to see Monroe. “I see my monkey beat me here to pay respects.”

Little C perked up at the sound of her mother’s voice. “Nomo! Look! It’s biga Clarke! Nontu finally found her!”

“The way I heard it, she was the one doing the finding,” Monroe said, taking the girl who was stretching her arms out for her. “Thanks for bringing back this bag of bones,” she told Clarke with a wry grin, gesturing to Bellamy with a nod. “And thanks for getting rid of the Azgeda. Always knew you’d make your way back to us.” She reached out to squeeze Clarke’s shoulder briefly before moving on. In reply to Little C’s complaints about wanting to stay with Bellamy, he heard her say, “He needs to take care of business still. You can play with him again soon enough,” before the sounds of the surrounding crowd overwhelmed them.

“So that’s Little Clarke,” Clarke said hesitantly to Bellamy.

“Yup,” he said proudly. “That’s her. She’s gotten so big, it’s unbelievable. And she’s as clever as a comet.”

“She takes after you a lot, then,” Clarke said, still focused on him but giving a hug to a member of the 23 who came to say hi and sending the young man on his way.

Bellamy laughed. “No, the cleverness is from Raven. And she has the same ability to get into trouble as Jasper. And she learned how to get out of that trouble from Monty. Now, her bossiness, that could maybe come from me.”

“Sha, but they aren’t her parents,” Clarke pointed out.

“No?” Bellamy agreed, confused. “They’re just as much her parents as I am. ‘It takes a village’ and all that. It may not be the nuclear family structure from the Arc, it may be a messed up dynamic, but she’s well taken care of,” he said defensively.

“But you’re her biological father,” Clarke stated. “You should have told me.”

“What?” He was taken aback by the idea and ran through the past few minutes in his head, now understanding the flash of hurt in her eyes earlier. “No, I’m not.”

“But she called you that.” Her tone brooked no nonsense, demanding the truth.

He snorted. “But that doesn’t make it true. I may have raised her, sure, but there’s not an ounce of my blood in her.”

“Oh.” Her ruffled feathers smoothed out in understanding. After a moment she said, “It would have been okay. If you had– if she was yours.”

He shook his head smiling. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

They both turned their attention back to those surrounding them, begging for their attention, thanking them and congratulating them and celebrating their homecoming. After the flow ebbed, Raven made her way to them. “Sorry it took so long, didn’t want to trip over all these clumsy legs.” She gestured to the chaos around them and gave Clarke a big hug. “It’s so good to see you.” 

They chatted until the approach of Abigail Griffin. Bellamy and Raven were going to give them some privacy but Clarke wouldn’t let go of his hand and so the two stuck around for moral support. At the news that Clarke was going to be coming back to Camp Jaha, tears of gratitude ran down Abby’s face and she embraced her. “I stay at Mount Weather. You will come visit me now and then, won’t you?”

“No,” Clarke said, still holding on to Bellamy’s hand tightly. He was almost surprised by the strength of her grip. “I’m never stepping foot in there again. You can come see me at Camp Jaha.”

Her mother frowned. “But how will you attend Council meetings?”

“I won’t,” she replied easily. “Bellamy is the heda of Camp Jaha, I’m given to understand, and he already has a second. There’s no reason for me to go.”

“You just led an army. You’re not one to give up responsibility so easily,” Abby pointed out. “You’ve always tried to carry the world on your shoulders.”

“I’m done with all that power. I’m not you, Mom,” Clarke said. “I’ll help Bellamy if he needs me to. But he’s perfectly capable of continuing to attend council meetings without me.”

Abby dropped the subject, obviously not agreeing but not wanting to argue in this moment of what should be celebration.

The sun was now high in the sky and most citizens had already been led to the army’s camp for lunch. Bellamy excused them and joined the flow of traffic. Upon arrival they located the grouping of the 23 and sat with them. Monty and Jasper started a rousing song of “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow” to welcome Clarke back, because word had already quickly spread. Apparently the two had also been busy at work at Mount Weather, as they had a new barrel of moonshine to share. Little C, sitting on Miller’s lap, was annoyed when they wouldn’t let her try any and pouted even more when everyone laughed at her complaints. 

Lunch bled into dinner bled into midnight revels. Although many went to sleep, taking advantage of the offer of the army’s supply of cots since Camp Jaha had not yet been rebuilt from the Azgedakru’s raidings and Camp Weather was a long trek back in the dark, more stayed awake, celebrating until the sun came up and reminded them of how much time had passed. Breakfast was a subdued matter, people quietly sipping gruel, before heading out of camp to perform their respective duties. Lacha allowed Bellamy some of her army to help with recovery efforts so a couple regiments were assigned and he led them, and the locals who were in good enough shape to help, to what was left of Camp Jaha.

After the first day of recovery efforts, people were able to sleep, if not in their old beds, on makeshift cots among familiar walls. By the third day, they had moved back in. On the fourth day, Lacha and her army left. 

To Bellamy’s surprise, Octavia’s party remained behind. “We’re going to run patrols in the area, make sure there’s no loose Azgedakru wandering. After a change of the seasons we’re to report back,” O informed him when he ran into her after he knew for a fact the army had moved out. She and Bosk were standing at a makeshift table, looking over a map.

“And you didn’t tell me this earlier because?”

She grinned. “For the look on your face, of course.” She gave his shoulder a light punch. “And it was just as good as I thought it would be.” 

When he wandered into Raven’s workshop, he was still dumbfounded by this revelation, only to find Clarke chatting with the mechanic and Little C going through boxes sorting tools. He felt overwhelming joy. Everyone he loved was back with him, even if it was just temporarily. Bellamy felt so grateful, he was so lucky. 

Both of the women looked up at his entrance and Raven raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay there, bossman? Did Monty drop a log on your head again?”

“You just saw Octavia, didn’t you?” Clarke guessed.

“You knew? You knew and didn’t tell me?” Bellamy asked, surprised, although he knew he probably shouldn’t be. “I can’t believe you were in on it!”

Clarke shrugged. “Of course I knew. I was her commander, after all.”

As the days passed, it became clear that Clarke felt adrift without her position, without the constant movement from battle to battle. She soaked up all the knowledge about the Camp that she could by listening to Bellamy and Miller discuss business, sometimes asking questions or making suggestions, but the domestic world was not one she was familiar with. She practically leaped at the opportunity when Monroe, who had taken over the role of Head of Hunt from Kis until the Grounder was fully healed, invited her along on the next hunting trip. (She had tried to accompany Octavia on one of their scoutings but when the party came back, O and Clarke were all glares and snap responses until time had passed and feathers were given a chance to unruffle and settle back down.) This reminded Bellamy that she had often sparred with Lacha and he vowed to do better when she came back, make her feel more at home.

The Wanheda wasn’t the only one having difficulty adjusting. After the awe of having her namesake around wore off, Little C found that she didn’t like having to share Bellamy. She was no longer his only partner when he made his rounds checking on the various running components of the camp and sometimes when she wanted to crawl into his bed at night because a story from the campfire came back to her mind and the shadows suddenly looked scary she couldn’t because  _ She _ was there and the first time she had tried, the blonde woman bolted upright at the sudden touch, flailing for a weapon that luckily wasn’t there. This scared Little C, and Bellamy carried the now sobbing girl back to her bed and sat with her, gently rubbing her back until the tears had subsided and she was lulled back to sleep. 

At Mount Weather, the Council brought back the idea of sending an expedition to explore. Despite Clarke’s news that the war was wrapping up, that the attack on the maunde was a last ditch effort for the Azgeda, many councilors wanted a way out, feeling that it was a Grounder war that they had no part in and they were tired of being at its mercy. The original original reasons for such an operation also still stood. When Bellamy mentioned to Clarke that this time the mission may actually make it past the planning stage, she perked up. He dedicated himself to convincing the other members of the council to bring it to pass and then, once the resolution was accepted, to finalizing all the plans and gathering supplies. 

He hesitantly asked O whether she would be able and willing to join the party. She crowed and agreed, claiming that war had grown boring and she needed a new adventure, and worked it out with Bosk that he would take over when the hunting party went North. (“You’ve learned everything I could teach you anyways,” O told the young man, who then whisked her into his arms and kissed her soundly.  “Not everything,” he said, grinning, eyes dancing. He tried to run but O was too fast and knocked him off his feet with a swift kick. “No, apparently I still haven’t beaten the lesson to mind your damn manners into you yet. You’re a lost cause,” she said mournfully, standing over his bruised body sprawled on the ground.) Bellamy sent out a call for volunteers and a full two-thirds of the Twenty-Three in Camp Jaha signed up. (“You know, Asher’s going to be pissed that he missed out on this, stuck fighting up North instead,” Jehanna told Bellamy as she scrawled her name onto the list.) When Raven added her name and Wick’s to the list, Bellamy pointed out that the Council wouldn’t like losing their best mechanic. “Bite me, Blake,” she said, “You’ll need me more.” He also argued with Monroe over going, threatening to leave Little C with Quanna and Ash in the mountain if she insisted on going with them. (“Don’t be a selfish asshole,” Monroe snapped, “If you’re going, I’m going, and if we’re both going then Clarke is coming with us. I’m not breaking up my family just because the Council suddenly gives a shit about kids.”) He eventually gave in, if only because, even though it was no place for a child, he was selfish and didn’t want his family, all together for the first time in years, broken up either. Overall he was pleased with the makeup of the party that’d undertake the expedition. Some Grounders and members of the Skaikru had signed up in addition to the 23. He’d have hunters and planters, mechanics and craftsmen, healers and leaders. His people had spent the last several years building their skills. They had done well with nothing; he was almost excited to see how they’d do now. 

The plan was set for them to head west, reaching the desert on the other side of the mountains before winter set in, with the understanding that the cold season would negate the life-draining heat of the desert, making it a little more bearable. So when the days started getting shorter, preparation went into overdrive.

They spent their last evening in Camp Jaha celebrating. Drinks were flowing and the bonfires were burning hot. Stories of the 100 were bandied about, as were tales put to song of when the Skaikru first came to Earth. Everyone had something to share. Clarke sat encircled within Bellamy’s arms as people tried to outdo each other’s yarns, their stories becoming more and more outrageous, especially considering how most of their characters sat in the circles around them.

After one last night in comfortable beds for who knows how long (and many took advantage of those beds for more than one use one last time), the party of fifty headed off bright and early, many other citizens cheering them on their way out. Clarke and Abby had a tearful goodbye, not knowing when they’d next see each other again, as did Bellamy and Miller, who decided to stay behind to run Camp Jaha. Monroe had already bade her goodbyes to Kis the night before and, while tears were perhaps not shed, it had been an emotional parting, as mentor and mentee had a high level of respect for each other. As the parade of explorers left, Little C waved goodbye to her friends from her perch on Lincoln’s shoulders as they passed. Although the child had been sad at the thought of leaving behind the yongons her own age, she pointed out that most of the people she played with would still be with her before listing off all of the 23 who would tolerate her.

The party left the camp, Clarke and Bellamy at the head, hand in hand. As the sun continued to rise, so did their spirits, feeling weights slide off their shoulders despite all the difficulties they knew lay ahead. Together they would be able to succeed and maybe this time they would be able to find somewhere peaceful to build their home, somewhere where they could feel the sun and breathe fresh air and look up at the night sky they used to live in and thank the stars that they were here and they were so very alive.

Stories would be told for decades of the deeds of the members of that party, from the time they fell to Earth to when they left the home they had fought so hard for and beyond. New tales came to the now bustling town of Jaha now and then, ones of a village far beyond the desert, beyond even the City of Light, where the land was flat and never ended, watched over by a Princess and a King of Three Kingdoms, who would fight Wamplei itself to keep their people safe. Listen to the stories told at gatherings today and you may still hear the names of Clarke the Wanheda, Bellamy the Beloved, and the tales of their people the Hononseingeda, who had only each other and found that more than enough.

 

The End.

  
  



End file.
